


bust your kneecaps

by Karentt1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fake Names, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda Dark, Love at First Sight, M/M, Murder, Not Beta Read, the beginning is deceptively fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karentt1/pseuds/Karentt1
Summary: When a great tragedy occurs, Castiel mourns with the rest of the city. Then he meets Sam and falls in love. But when new information comes to light, it threatens to destroy everything.---Later, in an interview done by the city’s largest newspaper, Mrs. Adams would say that she was out early to finish an important report for her job. She had been outside the doors of her workplace, a towering skyscraper, about to head inside, when she felt something hit the top of her head, wet and sticky.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> can't fuckn believe ive written spn fanfic in 2021, this is fine. 
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy. if you find any mistakes, pls tell me so i can fix them! 
> 
> also, to my irl friend who managed to find my account; if ur reading this, go fuck urself

The streets weren’t as busy as they usually were. Castiel was used to pushing through the crowded streets, being shoved and elbowed as he fought through the masses to get to his destination. Today, he could easily weave his way across the sidewalks without even bumping shoulders with another. 

The emptiness of the streets was understandable; most workplaces had given their employees the day off. Some businesses, mainly fast food places and emergency services, remained open. But all around Castiel were the dark windows of closed shops. He didn’t mind it much. The empty streets were peaceful in a way, although the reason for the break was regrettable. The entire city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something that Castiel knew would never come. The air was tense, filled with buzzing suspense and the thick weight of mourning. Sorrow seemed to taint the air. The mayor was planning on making a speech that evening that Castiel wasn’t going to watch. 

He shivered slightly, shoving his numbing fingers deep within his trench coat pockets to warm them up. The sky was gray and cloudy, reflecting the mood of the city. Castiel's head ached. 

He was one of the lucky employees in the city who didn’t have to go to their jobs. Working as a businessman on the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in the area wasn’t the greatest job in the world but at least he could boast a good paycheque and a fairly decent boss who cared about his employees. Castiel knew people who could spend hours complaining about their boss, droning on and on with stories ranging from harassment to blatant abuse of authority. He didn’t have anything to say about his own. And while everyone else was using their day off to spend time with family or spending it at home alone, Castiel was out for a walk. He didn’t have a clear destination in mind. 

While he moved, he allowed his eyes to drift around, evaluating his surroundings. He had always been described as a paranoid and careful man, both by friends and family, which simply wasn’t true. He had no reason to suspect anyone around him. He just knew he was more perceptive than most and he took pleasure in watching the people around him. He took notice of the actions and feelings of those around him, wrapping himself in the knowledge of understanding the world. He prided himself on being able to read even the most secretive of men. 

He ended his walk in the park, sitting on a vacant bench. The cool metal nearly shocked him as he sat down. In front of him was a small cluster of people crowded around a plaque that had been installed months ago. He watched with grim eyes as they bowed their heads, mouths moving in prayer. Castiel was a religious man but he could not remember the last time the word of God had passed through his lips. He didn’t understand these people. They were filled with sorrow as they prayed and Castiel could feel the sadness in their bones. These people were filled with needless guilt that they did not deserve. They felt too much. Why else would they be here? 

Castiel sat there for hours, watching as the crowds dissipated and gathered again. People left bouquets and bowed their heads in front of the plaque, praying and mourning. It seemed that hardly anyone was immune to the sadness that filled the city. 

He didn’t know he stayed there. His apartment was large and fairly comfortable, far warmer than it was outside. He knew he would be better off to go home and rest. He knew he should be preparing himself for another boring day at work, taking calls and making deals he didn’t care about. He knew he was lonely but maybe he could feel less alone in a building filled with seven floors of people. But he stayed in the park, feeling himself grow colder as the day ended and the evening came. He felt tired and his head pounded behind his eyes. He wished he had painkillers to rid himself of the pain. 

Eventually, he was left alone. The park was empty and someplace far away, Castiel could hear an echoing, booming voice with words that Castiel couldn’t make out. The mayor had started his speech. It would be broadcast all around the city, on every tv, on every radio, on every satellite. Castiel sighed deeply and let his head fall back, turning his gaze to the endless black sky, allowing himself to recall the darkest day the city had ever seen. 

Exactly one year ago a great tragedy occurred, one that shook the city to its very bones. On that day, a woman named Stacey Adams, a petite woman of 35 years, had been walking to work at 6:15 am. The sidewalks had still been fairly empty aside from a stray businessman hoping to get to work early just like her. 

Later, in an interview done by the city’s largest newspaper, Mrs. Adams would say that she was out early to finish an important report for her job. She had been outside the doors of a towering skyscraper, about to head inside, when she felt something hit the top of her head, wet and sticky. At first, she assumed it was raining. The city had been getting quite a bit of it at the time. But a glance at the sky destroyed that theory, the vast sunrise not showing a single cloud. Craning her head to look up further, she noticed something hanging from the top of the skyscraper, bumping against the windows, and swaying in the wind. She brought a hand to the top of her head where the liquid had hit her and when she pulled her hand back, a smear of rust showed stark against her pale hand. When she looked up again, and another drop of the cold crimson liquid hit her cheek, she could no longer deny what it was. Her scream had echoed through the city, prompting more and more as others found the same grisly sight she had, until the city was filled with the sounds of screaming and sirens. This was the trigger, the start of the worst month the city had ever been through, set off through Mrs. Adams. 

Or so the story goes. 

The body had been retrieved by a recovery crew in a helicopter as the crowds below watched with anticipation. All around the city, the others were being taken care of as well. By noon that day, 23 bodies had been discovered, hanging from the tops of skyscrapers, apartment buildings, and shops. Within the next three days, five more were found in alleys and dumpsters, 28 in total. The story goes that the bodies were grotesque things, covered in burns, bruises, and cuts. Mangled limbs were hanging onto limp forms by a single tissue, entrails were wrapped around necks, the bodies twisted into impossible knots. All of them were missing fingers and all of them had skin peeling from the body as if someone had taken a knife and gently pulled it back. God only knows the horrors these people suffered through in their last moment. Only three identities were ever confirmed; the rest of them were so burned and destroyed it was impossible to tell who they used to be. 

Or so they say. 

The three bodies confirmed were Ryan Salem, Eddie Picksworth, and John Winchester. Ryan and Eddie were revealed to be common criminals, already facing a few charges for drug trafficking around the city and the nearby area. It was John Winchester who they were interested in; by all accounts, he shouldn’t exist. There was nothing to confirm his existence. No taxes, no marriage certificate, no medical history, nothing. The only thing that showed that he had once been a living man was an old birth certificate found after months of searching that matched the DNA taken from his mangled body. Everything else about him was a mystery. Nobody knew why he had been brutally murdered and left to hang in the open air. And worst of all, no one knew who was responsible. 

“We will find who was responsible for this tragedy,” the chief of police promised in a new interview. “They will not get away with this. We will bring justice to the victims and their families, no matter the cost.” 

His words brought hope to a city desolated by fear and uncertainty. 

Months later and nothing was discovered. No new information, no new clues, no new victims. There weren’t leads that the police could follow up on. The FBI had been brought in, the most advanced technology was used, but nothing was found. As far as Castiel knew, the city was still searching for the culprits to no avail. And it had now been a full year since the incident and the killers were still walking free. It was a source of fear for much of the city; for all they knew, they could be walking past someone with the same hands as those who strung up the bodies to the buildings. 

Castiel sighed again, bringing himself from his depressing thoughts. The pain in his head seemed to worsen as he did. He remembered this time in his life as being eventful and full of stress. While his apartment building had been spared of a dangling body, his workplace hadn’t. All the employees were given a week off to recover and were told to do their work online for a month as the police scoured the skyscraper for any signs of evidence. 

Castiel remembered heading back for the first time after the incident. He remembered how difficult it was to look at his coworkers in the eyes. The weight of what happened rested heavily on all their shoulders despite their insistence of not talking about it. It had been a time of stress, restless nights, and sickness for Castiel, and he was thankful it was over. The anniversary of the murders seemed to be bringing everything back though, his body recalling the pain of that time with the resurgence of the grief around the city. 

Perhaps that was the cause of his headache. 

He shook his head slightly, ruffling his jacket. A small sound came from his left side and Castiel jerked his head towards the noise, ignoring the sharp pain that resulted from the sudden action. He didn’t even know anyone else sat down. 

Sitting beside him was a young man Castiel should have been able to notice earlier, and he quietly chastised himself for not being more alert. He quietly assessed the man with keen eyes, trying to appear like he wasn’t openly staring. 

The man had floppy chestnut hair that brushed and curled around his neck, and smooth tanned skin. A thick jacket was pulled over a simple flannel shirt and his long legs were covered in denim. The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, looking more like an older teenager than a young adult. He seemed tense, looking straight ahead at the plaque, lost in thought like Castiel used to be. He seemed harmless enough but Castiel knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. 

Castiel turned away from him, not wanting to be caught staring. A cold breeze drifted through the park, causing him to shiver. The man barely seemed affected by the weather, sitting still with his hands clasped in his lap. The silence stretched on, becoming unbearable. Castiel usually liked silence; he liked the chance to observe the world around him without interruption. But this silence was too loud, filled with too much unspoken words and tenseness that was not coming from Castiel. It looked like there was much the young man wanted to say but couldn’t with another human there, and Castiel hesitantly got up to allow the man some privacy. 

“Do you ever wonder why?” 

Castiel turned back to the bench, mid-step. The young man was staring at him and Castiel could finally properly look at him. He hadn’t quite noticed how attractive the man was before. The young man's eyes bore into his, the colour of rich hazel. They were filled with curiosity, as if he truly wanted to know what Castiel thought, but they were also filled with something deeper. Something that almost seemed like grief and deeper still, a contempt that Castiel knew was not for him. 

“Hmm?” Castiel murmured, staring into the young man's brilliant eyes, not quite understanding what he was being asked. It felt like a question that shouldn’t be directed at him. 

The man huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips like he was laughing at Castiel. His eyes filled with twinkling mirth and Castiel didn’t know whether or not to be upset he had put that there. The young man was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen and he didn’t mind being laughed at if he could manage to put that smile on his face again. “I asked if you ever wonder why.” 

Castiel turned to look at the plaque the young man was staring at. Now that he was standing closer, he could just make out the names of the three men identified that day and an acknowledgement for the ones that weren’t. He wondered what importance the plaque held to this man, if it was the same importance everyone in the city felt or if it was something more. 

“I suppose so,” Castiel said, turning back to the young man's inquisitive gaze. His voice was gravelly, rougher than he intended to sound, and he could tell the man was shocked by it. A light blush spread across his cheeks that Castiel watched with interest. 

It was true; like every citizen of the city, he often wondered why. Why they were killed, why they were strung up, why they were so horribly mutilated. It was the topic of many news articles, the question of _why_. But they never got an answer and Castiel didn’t think it would come soon, not unless those responsible came forward and told their story. 

“Do you?” Castiel asked, feeling like it would be rude not to do so. 

The young man shrugged. “Of course I do, who doesn’t?” 

It was a rhetorical question so Castiel just hummed in response. The young man's eyes seemed far away for a few seconds before returning. He looked like he wanted a distraction from whatever thoughts were plaguing him, demanding his attention. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man laughed apologetically. “I’m Sam. Sam Wesson.” He stood up and held out his hand to shake. He was much taller than Castiel previously thought and he suddenly felt very small in this man's presence. He wasn’t a short man by any means but anyone would feel inadequate standing beside this man. 

Castiel stared at it for a few seconds, committing the shape of the sharp fingers to memory, before remembering it was rude to stare. He clasped his hand with Sam’s, the hand warm and dry in his own, and for a second, he allowed himself to grip the young man tightly. “Castiel Novak.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam said, eyes filled with unearned awe. His eyes were bright and Castiel thought he saw them turn to gold for a moment in the light. Sam was truly beautiful; Castiel had met men who could take his breath away with their beauty, but Sam seemed to fuel his lungs instead. His organs shook with a gasping breath, full of anticipation. 

“You too,” he nodded, releasing Sam’s hand. He missed the warmth immediately when he pulled away and he shoved his hands back in his pockets to compensate for it. They looked at each other for a moment, neither knowing what to say. Castiel turned away before the silence became awkward, no longer having a reason to stay. 

“Have a good day Sam,” he called over his shoulder, wishing he could stay and chat with the man. But he didn’t know what else to do nor what else to say. He was anti-social to a fault, preferring to lock himself away than interact with others. Gabriel always said he would die alone, and as much as Castiel hated proving him right, he knew there was a grain of truth to what Gabriel said. There wasn’t much future for him with anyone else. 

He had barely taken a few steps away before Sam cried, “Wait!” 

Castiel turned, raising his eyebrows. Sam appeared to be gathering his words, looking at everything except him. His eyes wandered to the sky, the ground, even back to the bench where he had jumped up from, his cheeks flushed. In a way, it was cute. Castiel could see this man possessed a great amount of confidence that seemed to slink away in Castiel’s presence, and he was almost honoured he was able to reduce Sam to this. 

“Uh well,” Sam muttered, laughing nervously, scratching the back of his head. It appeared to be a nervous tick of his, and Castiel's eyes trailed to the hairs that framed his face. He longed to brush them away but settled for clenching his fists instead. “This is weird but would you like to accompany me to get some drinks? I know this amazing bar we could head to.”

Castiel cringed. His head continued to pulse with pain and the thought of heading to a bar full of rowdy crowds seemed to make it worse. Sam must’ve noticed his expression because his eyes widened and he hurried to correct himself. 

“You don’t have to, I’m aware we just met and we don’t know each other but-” 

“Sam,” Castiel sighed, stopping him from continuing to ramble. The constant barrage of sound was making his head hurt even more. Sam looked at him strangely but shut his mouth, waiting for Castiel to make a move. “I would love to come with you for drinks but I have this awful headache at the moment. I don’t think I could handle large crowds right now.” 

Sam’s mouth turned into a perfect O as understanding filled his eyes. “Well, what about somewhere quieter? I know this diner that barely anyone knows about. You could get something to eat too.” 

Castiel considered it. He _was_ hungry and he did want to spend more time with Sam. The man needed a distraction and Castiel, however reluctant he was to admit it, wanted someone to talk to, someone he could spend at least one night with. Loneliness was a cage Castiel was only content to stay in occasionally. Like everyone else, he craved human contact that seemed to deny only him. 

Besides, this young man was offering something that was only given to characters in movies and people that weren’t Castiel. When would he ever be offered dinner by a handsome stranger again? He would be a fool to pass up this opportunity. 

“Do you want to?” 

Sam laughed, a lovely sound. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t. I feel like going out tonight and my brother is-” his eyes filled with grief and regret for a split second before disappearing, “-elsewhere. It would be great if you could join me but you don’t have to. I was just offering.” 

Castiel watched him for a few more seconds, evaluating the pros and cons, before deciding. His headache continued and he softly resigned himself to a few more hours of pain. 

“Lead the way then,” he said, and Sam’s large smile made it worth it. 

* * *

The diner Sam tugged him into was small but filled with nostalgia. Castiel never stepped foot in this particular diner before but he could remember it from his childhood, bits and pieces of the years before adulthood filling the room. He could almost remember the jukebox in the corner from Nevada and the coffee mugs from California, all coming together like puzzle pieces to form a picture Castiel was eerily familiar with. 

Sam was right; the place was empty. 

“Amy?” Sam called, pulling Castiel up to the counter. Castiel let him, not minding a little manhandling. 

An older woman, probably in her late fifties, came out from the back, washing a cup with a dishrag. She was soft and round but with thick arms that were filled with muscle. She was covered in flour, and brought with her the scent of scones and bacon. Her eyes lit up when she saw Sam, a soft kindness filling her emerald eyes. It was fond and filled with love that made Castiel feel a little uncomfortable to witness. 

“Hey sweetheart,” she laughed, her voice naturally maternal. She set down the cup and leaned over the counter to kiss him gently on the cheek. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m sorry, Amy, me and Dean have been busy.” 

“He's still working you to the bone?” she teased and Sam chuckled, smiling wide. He behaved with a gentle familiarity that Castiel was envious of. He and this woman had a deep connection and Castiel felt like he was intruding onto something private; as if he wasn’t welcome in this place that Sam knew so well. 

“You know it.” 

“You tell that brother of yours that if he doesn’t let himself and you rest for a bit, Amy’ll come after him and he won’t like what happens then,” Amy scolded playfully, wagging her finger in Sam’s face. It was so motherly it hurt. 

“I’ll tell him, Amy,” Sam said, a mock-serious expression on his face. “For now though, I just want to see you.” 

“Oh you sweet thing,” Amy crooned and Castiel was sure she was going to reach up and pinch his cheek. At last, she caught sight of Castiel, looking behind Sam where he was standing awkwardly, waiting to be introduced properly. “You didn’t tell me you have company.” 

“Oh yes!” Sam cried, looking embarrassed. “This is Castiel, we met at the park today. Castiel, this is Amy, the owner of this diner.” 

“A pleasure,” Castiel said simply, reaching across the table to shake her hand. Amy’s hand was big and strong, filled with self-assurance that could only come with age. 

“What a gentleman,” Amy laughed and Castiel raised his eyebrows. All he had done was shake her hand. It was a requirement back in his family to give respect to every adult they came across. Since he was young, ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ had been beaten into him until he didn’t know how else to talk to adults. Even now that he was older, in his late twenties it was hard to let go of those habits, making him seem like a polite man to anyone he came across. This jovial woman deserved his respect just as much as the highest CEO unless she did anything to take it away. Castiel was polite but he wasn’t a pushover and he wasn’t willing to let himself be walked all over. 

“I know,” Sam said, pulling Castiel into a stool. “Two orders of my usual please.” He suddenly stopped and turned to Castiel, worry written plain on his face. “Is that fine? Me ordering for you?” 

Castiel nodded and relief filled Sam’s face. It was funny how expressive this young man was but Castiel understood that he was just as good at hiding his emotions as he was revealing them. They were always hidden under layers upon layers of depth but Castiel was skilled in pushing buttons. If anyone could understand this man, it was him. 

“Coming right up,” Amy said. “And chamomile tea for your headache.” She winked at Castiel before marching right back into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. 

“How did she-” 

“Don’t question it,” Sam sighed. “She just does. You get used to it.” 

Castiel hummed. Now that he was alone with Sam, the silence was tense like it had been at the park. He risked another glance back over at the man who brought him here. 

Sam looked tired. It wasn’t the sleepy tired that demanded a good night's sleep to cure; it was tiredness that seemed to sink into your bones, making its home in your ribcage and slithering into your heart. Castiel was sadly familiar with it. 

“May I ask who Dean is?” he questioned, breaking the silence when it became too much for him to handle. 

“He’s my older brother. Pain in the ass if you ask me but it could be worse.” Sam laughed, his eyes full of kindness. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

Castiel laughed bitterly. He did. He wished he didn’t. He was a religious man, but religion had ruined him and his relationship with his family. He trusted God but felt no reverence for those who commanded His name. 

“I have some half-brothers but they’re all terrible people. There’s only a few I can tolerate and even those are close to being dropped.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, sounding like he genuinely meant it. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I-” Sam seemed shocked at the question and Castiel got the feeling he was used to feeling responsible for other people’s pain. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find an answer to placate Castiel. 

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Castiel said, shaking his head. The movement caused more pain to erupt behind his eyes, his head pounding uncomfortably. “Like I said: terrible people. I’m glad they’re gone.” 

“That’s good then,” Sam breathed. He still looked upset on Castiel's behalf and it would have been sweet if it weren’t completely undeserved. “Do you have a job?” he asked, looking to change the subject. 

“Sam,” Castiel teased, a smile playing on his lips. He was glad to be rid of the tough conversation before. “I am a functioning member of society,” he said, trying to ignore how untrue it was. “Of course I have a job.” 

“I was asking what it was.” 

“Hmm,” Castiel murmured. Amy came out of the kitchen and set two cups in front of them; chamomile tea for Castiel and black coffee for Sam. She set some cream and sugar packets down before leaving back into the kitchen, sending them both one last cheeky wink. Castiel raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. The pain in his head alleviated but didn’t go away completely, just enough that it was slightly more tolerable. “I work as a businessman at the Plaza.” 

“That’s cool,” Sam said, pouring the cream and sugar into his cup. Castiel looked at it pointedly, then turned his gaze outside where the sun was gone and the lights of the city illuminated the streets. He never drank coffee after 5 pm. He was already insomniac- he didn’t need to make it worse with caffeine. 

“My brother is going to need some help,” Sam defended, sipping his drink. “He has a habit of working all night and it is near impossible to put him to bed. The only way is if we finish a job and so it’s better if I help him. That way it’s over quicker.” 

“What does your brother do?” 

Sam was silent for a few moments, looking pensive. He pursed his lips. Castiel watched him curiously until Sam looked up again. “He’s a mechanic.” 

“Are you?” 

“Oh hell no,” Sam laughed, seeming appalled by the idea. “I handle business and customers, Dean does the work. I help him with tools and with lighting as well. It’s not much but it helps.” 

Castiel nodded. Sam’s eyes seemed to light up whenever he mentioned Dean. An awed reverence filled his face whenever he started, looking younger than he usually did, which seemed impossible with Sam’s youthful features. Castiel felt his chest ache; he hated his siblings but he didn’t always. They used to be close, playing games in the mud when their mother turned away and focused on something else. They would chase each other through the house, weaving through the long legs of the servants until inevitably crashing into their father. He would then scold them furiously, sending them to bed without supper. But it was worth it for that bit of fun in their dreary lives. 

Things had changed when Castiel came out. He had always known that his parents wouldn’t be accepting. He had watched them cut off a family friend when she came to a family event with a lovely lady hanging off her arm. Castiel could still recall the biting words they spat long after she left. But he had thought- hoped- his siblings would be different. He hoped that they hadn’t been tainted by their parent’s poison just yet, but he was wrong. Only Gabriel had stayed and even he was an asshole sometimes. Castiel was glad he cut them off, glad he no longer had their toxins and their claws in his life but hearing Sam talk about his older brother like he was some goddamn saint made his skin crawl. He imagined what it would be like if he could talk about his siblings like that. 

“You and your brother must be close,” he said, sipping his tea, pushing back the jealousy that threatened to crawl into his heart. Sam didn’t deserve that. 

“Oh yeah,” Sam laughed, fiddling with his sleeves. “He practically raised me. The best damn brother you could ask for.” His demeanour turned playful as he turned in his stool to look fully at Castiel. “But don’t tell him I said that. He’s got a big enough ego already.” 

Castiel laughed but he could feel his cheeks warm at the implications that he would be sticking around enough to meet the brother Sam thought so highly of. Sam was beautiful, handsome even; he could easily imagine Sam getting with anyone he wanted. Hell, people probably threw themselves at him all the time. Why would he want Castiel, the man wearing a rumpled suit and a trenchcoat, with the hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in years? 

Why would he ever want to stick around?

“Here’s your food darlings,” Amy said, barging in from the kitchen. In her hands were two plates, each with a bowl of steaming chilli and a bun on top. It smelled heavenly, filling the empty diner with the scent of tomato, spices, and ground beef. Sam took a deep breath in, looking content. “Enjoy.” 

“You’re an angel,” Sam said, grabbing the spoon immediately. He took a bite and he moaned in pleasure at the taste, looking like he hadn’t eaten in ages and this was his first bite after a long famine. Castiel felt himself start to heat up just watching him. “Just as amazing as always.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel said with a curt nod and Amy smiled before walking away. 

“You’ll love this, I promise,” Sam said, eyes twinkling. Castiel picked up the spoon and dug into the chilli. He brought the first bite to his lips, blowing slightly to cool it, then placing the hot metal in his mouth. He chewed for a few moments before swallowing; Sam had not been lying. This was nearly the best meal he ever had. 

“Well?” Sam looked at him expectantly, like he desperately wanted Castiel to enjoy himself and Castiel melted under his gaze. 

“It’s amazing,” he said, taking another bite and Sam beamed before continuing to eat.

The rest of the meal passed with light conversation, the two men staying away from heavy conversation. Castiel asked Sam about his childhood and his hobbies, Sam explaining how he and Dean always took care of each other and he enjoyed writing. Castiel in turn described his upbringing, living in a mansion with millionaires for parents. Sam seemed surprised at everything Castiel thought was normal and it fascinated Castiel, the difference between them. It made him want to get closer to Sam, to find out every little thing about him. Castiel wanted to hold Sam’s secrets and have his secrets be held in return. 

Amy returned nearly an hour later once the chilli and buns had been eaten (“They’re homemade Castiel, the best you’ll ever find in the city,”) and Castiel had instinctively reached for the cheque only to find a warm hand waiting for him, blocking him. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam said gently. “I invited you out, I’ll pay for it.” 

“But you introduced me to this wonderful place,” Castiel pointed out, “allow me. Please.” 

This was a familiar battle Castiel was used to fighting with his friends and the blind dates he occasionally went on when Gabriel’s nagging became too much. It was a battle he was used to winning. But Sam had determination in his eyes that would be comical if it didn’t make Castiel want to hold him close forever. 

They fought over the cheque for a few minutes before Castiel finally folded, allowing Sam to pull out a few wrinkled bills from his coat. He handed them to Amy who slipped them into her apron before whisking their dishes away. 

Sam turned to Castiel, looking directly into his eyes. Night had fallen while Castiel was distracted and the fluorescent lights of the diner illuminated the area perfectly. With a start, Castiel finally recognized what was in Sam’s eyes; a genuine desire to do good. Castiel was perceptive about these things and Castiel was seldom wrong about someone. It wasn’t innocence- far from it. Sam looked burdened with the weight of his flaws, flaws Castiel had yet to discover but was sure they were there. But he looked like he genuinely wanted the world to be a better place, as if he spent years begging and praying for the world to be better and when he didn’t get a response, decided to do it himself. It took his breath away. 

“I had fun,” Sam said and Castiel had to take a sharp intake of breath before he fainted from lack of air. He was feeling lightheaded but his headache was almost gone, something he was grateful for. He would have to come back later and thank Amy again. 

“So did I,” Castiel whispered. The sad part was that it was true. He couldn’t even recall the last time he enjoyed a night out like he did this once. He couldn’t even recall the last time he had met up with anyone at _all_. Being with Sam felt like being safe, something public places never accomplished and Castiel would love to do it again. He hesitated for a second- a single moment that he regretted losing- before asking, “Would you like to meet up again sometime?” 

“I would love that,” Sam smiled. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. He signed in then handed it to Castiel. “You can put your number in and we can plan to meet up again soon.” 

Castiel typed in his number, putting the contact name as “Castiel :)” and felt stupid for it but he was already handing back the phone before he could second guess himself. He handed his phone to Sam so he could do the same and watched as Sam typed his number. He was a remarkably fast texter and Castiel was holding his phone again within seconds. He slipped it into his pocket and stood up, feeling his shoulders crack. 

Sam led him to the door, a hand on the small of Castiel's back, a welcome touch. It burned through Castiel's coat, feeling like hellfire, like damnation. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Sam said, his words sounding like a promise, before he walked into the dark, waving goodbye. Castiel watched his go, feeling himself long to follow him but kept himself in check, and began to walk the other way home. 

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, he felt sore and uncomfortable. The feeling of pins being shoved into the vertebrae wouldn’t leave no matter how much stretching he did. The bright morning air and the honking of traffic outside his window made waking up nearly unbearable and the only thing propelling him out of bed was the knowledge that if he didn’t come into work, he would be fired. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and started towards the bathroom, stumbling slightly. When he emerged a few minutes later, his hair was wet and his teeth were brushed. He got himself dressed in a rumpled suit and did up the tie, not caring much about his appearance before moving into the kitchen. 

He made himself a breakfast of toast and strawberries, and as he ate, he thought about Sam. Sam, the brilliant man who invited Castiel out and paid for the meal, Sam the wonderful man who listened and laughed at Castiel's lame attempts at jokes. The man who looked so pretty when he blushed, and the man who made Castiel's cheeks feel like they were on fire. Perfect Sam Wesson. 

Castiel sighed and looked at his phone. Sam’s contact name seemed to mock him. Castiel wondered if he should text Sam instead of waiting for one. Even a small “good morning!” would suffice but Castiel couldn’t quite get his fingers to move. What if Sam thought he was too desperate? What if Sam didn’t mean anything by it last night? What if he gave Castiel the wrong number hoping to embarrass him? 

These thoughts raced across Castiel’s mind and despite how hard he tried to push them away, they came back. The feeling of doubt, pain, and embarrassment flooded through him and Castiel ate his breakfast faster, hoping the sweetness of the strawberries would mask the thoughts. It didn’t work, the bitter feeling at the back of his throat refusing to go away no matter how much he tried. 

Castiel sighed and put down his phone, shoving it far away from him, rubbing his eyes hard with the palms of his hands. It wasn’t worth freaking out over, he decided, but his heart pounded inside his chest, an ever-growing thump. Castiel could understand why the narrator went insane as the heart beat under his floorboards in that one story he was forced to read in high school English class. Hell, he was driving himself half-insane already. 

The phone buzzed on the table and Castiel scrambled for it. His fingertips had melted butter smeared on them from the toast and it took a few tries to get the phone open, Castiel’s heart beating wildly. Inside his head, he berated himself for freaking out so much. It was such a small action, barely worth a singular passing in his mind. With a deep breath, he went to his messages, his heart skipping a beat when he saw who it was. 

_hey, good morning! i hope you got home safely last night, i didn’t even realize how late it had gotten lol_

Castiel read the text message. Then he read it again. And again. It was such a simple greeting yet it made his skin burn like wax dripping down his arms. Sam remembered him. Sam wanted to talk more. He tried to formulate a response but his fingers wouldn’t move. He didn’t know what to say in return. 

His phone buzzed again and a new message appeared. 

_i don’t know what time you get off for break but would you like to go out for lunch with me? i’m free pretty much all day_

I would love that, he thought, feeling himself smile. Sam wanted to see him again, perhaps almost as badly as Castiel wanted to see him. 

_you can pick the place_

This time Castiel was able to create a reply, forcing his fingers to move before Sam decided that Castiel was just ignoring him on purpose. 

**_As long as I get to pay._ **

_you text like an old man_

_but sure_

Castiel quickly typed what time he got off work for an hour’s break and where he wanted to meet. Sam replied with a thumbs-up emoji and that was the end of their messaging. Sam started to type something else but changed his mind at the last minute so Castiel was left staring at his phone, waiting for a message that would never come. When he realized it would never come, he shoved his phone inside his suit pockets and rushed out the door so he wouldn’t be late for the train. Again. 

When he got to work, he didn’t realize he was doing anything different until Gabriel grabbed his arm, tugging him into his cubicle. Castiel barely had time to scream before he was being cornered. 

“Okay,” he demanded as soon as Castiel got his bearing. “Who is he? I want a name, age, phone number, picture, and birth certificate.” 

“Good morning to you Gabriel,” Castiel muttered, rubbing his arm where Gabriel grabbed him harshly. He wondered how Gabriel had known but then again, Gabriel always seemed to have a nose for new office gossip. “Give me one reason why I should do all these things.” 

“Castiel….Cas…..Cassie…” Gabriel whined, drawing out each name until it sounded like music. He sounded like a petulant child. “How long have we been working together?” 

“Entirely too long,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes. 

“Ouch. That hurts baby bro. But the correct answer is seven years. For _seven_ years we’ve been working together. And how long did we know each other before then?” 

Castiel fixed him with a glare. “I want you to go away.” 

“Our entire lives!” Gabriel yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration. “And you won’t even tell me when you’re back in the dating game! So tell me Cassie, who is it you’re screwing?” 

“Correction. I want you to go away _and_ go fuck yourself.”

“Is he hot?” Gabriel asked, ignoring Castiel. He suggestively waggled his eyebrows and Castiel shuddered in disgust. “Was he good? Did you...y’know-” he smiled, eyes filled with cruel amusement, “-give or receive?” 

“And I’m done with you,” Castiel declared, shoving past his half-brother back into the office. He could almost feel everyone's gaze on his back and he knew Gabriel had been shouting. Everyone heard. Everyone knew. He blushed bright red under their scrutinizing gaze and tried to slink back to his cubicle, dying from embarrassment.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gabriel said, following after him. He dropped his voice to a whisper, the teasing quality disappearing. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just shocked, you haven’t been on an actual date in what? Months? Years?” 

“It’s been a while,” Castiel said tightly, trying his hardest not to correct Gabriel when he called it a date. The diner wasn’t anything of the sort; it was more of an introduction stage when both men decided that they would take the plunge and eat with someone they barely knew. It had been peaceful, soft, almost intimate in a way but it certainly hadn’t been a date. 

“Exactly! You can’t blame me for being curious.” 

“No,” Castiel sighed. “I can’t. But I can blame you for being an asshole.” 

“I promise not to be an asshole anymore.”

Castiel spun around to face his brother, searching his eyes for any sign of lying. All he found was sincerity and genuine curiosity, along with a little bit of teasing interest. He sighed again, this time in defeat and Gabriel let out a whoop of excitement. 

Truth be told, Castiel kind of _had_ to tell Gabriel. His half-brother, Gabriel Novak, was a trickster, a manipulator, a flirt, an asshole, and plenty less than ideal names. He truly was one of the most annoying people Castiel ever met. But he was also one of the only people who stayed with Castiel when he came out to his family, was one of the only ones to defend him when bullies went after what they assumed was an easy target, and even offered him the job he currently enjoyed. Gabriel may have been an asshole but at least he was an asshole with morals. Castiel didn’t have many other people who were willing to put with him. Thus, Gabriel was always the first to know everything about what was happening in Castiel's life. Gabriel deserved that spot beside him, he had earned it by sticking by him through thick and thin. 

“Fine. His name is Sam, Sam Wesson, he’s 21 years old, I’m not giving you his phone number, I don’t have a picture of him, and why would you need his birth certificate?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know. And you don’t have any pictures? No problem.” He whipped out his phone and began frantically typing into it. Somehow, Castiel doubted it was work-related and he rolled his eyes. Gabriel flipped his phone screen around a few seconds later, showing an Instagram profile. “This him?” 

Castiel peered at it. “That’s him,” he confirmed. 

The profile wasn’t personal but rather a work account called _@/wessonservices._ There were pictures of cars and motors all down the profile along with pictures of a man Castiel didn’t recognize with piercing green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a splattering of freckles across his tanned skin. His hands were always covered in motor oil as he displayed his products, his eyes full of arrogance and pride. The only picture Castiel could see of Sam was the latest post. The other man, who Castiel could only assume was Dean, had his arm around Sam’s shoulder as they stood in front of a recently repaired car. Standing side-by-side to each other, Castiel could truly appreciate just how tall Sam was. Dean was smiling while Sam looked awkward as if he didn’t want to be in front of the camera. It was oddly sweet. 

Gabriel whistled. “You bagged yourself a sasquatch there Cassie. But I’m more interested in the other one? You get his number too?” 

Castiel huffed. “You want him, you contact him. I’m not setting you up.” 

“You’re the worst,” Gabriel said mildly, standing up. He shut off his phone and stuck it back in his pocket. “I better get back to work before they realize I’m gone.” He turned to walk out before pausing. Castiel watched him quizzically as Gabriel turned back, a rare gentleness in his eyes. “Cas?” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows and didn’t say anything. 

“I’m proud of you. I hope he can make you happy.” 

Castiel took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel smiled one last time before leaving, his footsteps disappearing. Castiel sighed, unable to focus on his work. He desperately wanted to hope that maybe Sam could make him happy, could fix his boring, meaningless life and turn it into something beautiful, but it seemed impossible. But if anyone could do it, it was Sam Wesson. Castiel couldn't help it; he was infatuated. He could only pray that Sam would feel the same way. 

The day seemed to go by much slower than usual as if the clocks were protesting against Castiel. He banged his head against his desk when he realized only five minutes had gone by since he last checked the time, and felt himself grow more and more impatient. 

He tried to keep himself busy. He shuffled papers and took notes, taking extra care this time to make sure they were neat and tidy. His boss never cared about the state of his notes as long as the printed ones looked good but Castiel needed something to do with his hands. He tried to write in perfect cursive and ended up having to restart several times. Once or twice he caught Gabriel watching him and whenever he met Castiel’s eyes, he would send a cheeky wink his way and every time, Castiel vowed not to look over again. 

At last, after what seemed like centuries, his break started and Castiel practically leapt off the chair, grabbed his coat, and speed-walked to the door. He tried to appear inconspicuous but failed with his fidgeting. 

“Go get em’ tiger!” Gabriel yelled after him, sending over an enthusiastic thumbs up which Castiel pretended to ignore. He left his office building and started the one-block walk to a small cafe on the corner of the street he knew Sam would enjoy. Sam seemed like the type of person to love libraries and local cafes, and Castiel hoped he’d made the right choice for a meet-up.

As he walked, he contemplated all the ways it could go wrong. Maybe Sam wouldn't show up. Maybe Sam would show up but only out of pity. Maybe Castiel would order a hot drink and accidentally spill it all over Sam. Maybe Castiel would order a hot drink and accidentally spill it all over _himself_. The possibilities were endless, an infinite amount of ways he could screw it up. And with a sinking heart, he realized he didn’t want to screw it up. That night at the diner had been the most fun he’d had in months. He wanted to impress Sam. He wanted Sam to stick around. 

“That’s so sad,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the curious glances he got from the people on the street. Why would Sam ever want to meet up with someone like him, someone who barely even left the house for work and groceries? 

He almost turned around when he realized he made it to his destination. His feet were already halfway through the motion, intending to carry him back to his workplace to a disappointed Gabriel, when he caught sight of Sam through the window of the coffeeshop. Sam who was waiting eagerly, wearing a soft red cardigan and jeans that were torn at the knees, Sam with his eyes searching the doorway for Castiel. Castiel felt like gasping. He allowed himself to walk towards the door, permitting himself to have one good thing. He opened the door, the bell at the top announcing his presence. Sam caught sight of him and smiled, waving him over, a cup of coffee and a scone already in front of him, and something inside of Castiel melted. 

* * *

The next few weeks could only be described as pure heaven. Castiel used to imagine how heaven would feel when he finally died and went up to his Fathers resting place. He used to pray in church for God to send him a brief glimpse of the paradise he was destined for, and when he started to wonder if he was gay, his desire to stay within the pearly gates was the motivation he needed to repress that part of him as far as it could go. Imagining what it would be like in a perfect utopia was his reason for living for so long. But nothing that he imagined, nothing that he could ever come up with, could compare to the first few weeks spent with Sam. 

They met up every second day during Castiel’s lunch break and every time he returned, he had to endure Gabriel’s teasing smirks but it was worth it. Spending time with Sam made Gabriel easier to deal with. 

During the weekends, Sam would invite Castiel out, taking him around the city to explore and Castiel was able to see the city with new eyes. Sam knew every nook and cranny of the city, and he shared his extensive knowledge with Castiel.

One weekend Sam insisted on staying with him at his apartment and making Castiel dinner, which Castiel hesitantly agreed to. Castiel was quick to discover Sam had no clue what he was doing in the kitchen. What had resulted was a mess, a promise for Chinese food, and bellyache from laughing too hard. It was a sweet memory, something Castiel knew he would treasure forever. Even if he and Sam ended in tragedy, he would remember that night fondly. That was the first night Castiel was allowed to sleep over in Sam’s bed, feeling hesitant to reach out in the night. But Sam kept his arms wrapped around Castiel, the blankets tucked snugly around them, and he felt at peace. 

Sam even started calling him his partner when they went shopping together at the city’s largest mall and Castiel’s heart felt so full of glee at the words spoken with confidence. Later, when Sam apologized profusely for assuming, Castiel shut him up with a kiss and a reassurance that it was okay and that he didn’t mind. After that, that was what they were; partners. 

A month later and things seemed perfectly in place. Castiel would spend a few nights over in Sam’s small, one-person apartment, before heading back to his place. Eventually, Sam would follow. Small items were left behind in rooms, toothbrushes in bathrooms, extra clothes in closets, food in fridges that were bought for no other reason than the other person enjoyed it. Slowly, they were consuming each other in their own households. 

Nights were spent on the couch of whoever was currently hosting, bowls and plates in their laps as they watched whatever cheesy rom-com they decided at the moment, before inevitably ending in each other's laps, and later, in the bedroom. It was during one of these nights that Sam asked Castiel if he wanted to meet Dean. 

“So I was thinking,” he began, washing the dishes in soapy water and handing them off to Castiel to dry, “that you should meet my brother.” He seemed strangely hesitant about it. 

“Do you want me to?” Castiel asked slowly, setting down the now-dry cup. He knew that this was something incredibly important to Sam, a milestone in their relationship. Up until then, Sam managed to keep his new relationship with Castiel far away from his brother. Sam often had days off that he could spend with Castiel (which he didn’t complain about) but so far the only contact he had with Dean was when he called during a date and Sam talked for a few minutes before hanging up. Castiel had barely even heard his voice before Sam pulled away, heading into the other room. 

Sam sighed, reaching up to run his hands through his hair before realizing they were covered in dirty water. He pulled his hand back down, seeming nervous. “Dean invited us over for dinner on Monday. He wanted to know if you were able to make it.” 

“Really?” 

“He’s been pestering me at work. Apparently I’ve been ‘neglecting my brotherly duties’ because I haven’t introduced you yet.” Sam dropped his voice when he said that, clearly trying to imitate his brother. 

Castiel furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal meeting Dean but it was to Sam and Castiel wanted to be a part of Sam’s life. That included Dean. Castiel was proud that Sam finally trusted him enough to introduce them. It was Saturday. Monday was in two days and it would give him ample time to prepare. “I’m free that night.” 

“So we’re going? Because if you don’t want to, we don’t-” 

“Sam,” Castiel interrupted, holding up his hand. “I would love to meet your family.” 

The look of relief Sam gave him filled him with a warmth that spread to the tips of his toes. “Thank you, Cas,” he said. 

Castiel nodded and gestured for Sam to hand him the freshly cleaned plate so it could be cleaned. That was the end of the conversation and when they were done with the dishes, they went to bed together, curled in each other's arms, relishing in the presence of the other. The night passed in quiet familiarity, an intimacy in the air that Castiel was glad he earned. 

The next few days passed with a slight uncomfortableness deep within Castiel’s bones. He felt anxious, a tremble in his body that didn’t quite go away. Meeting Dean could go two ways; Dean could welcome him into the family with open arms or Castiel could completely screw it up, ruining his relationship with Sam’s brother forever. This was a pivotal moment for him and he wanted to make a good impression. He wanted Dean to accept his part in Sam’s life. He wanted Dean to like him enough to let him stay. 

Monday evening left him standing in front of his mirror, a critical eye trailing down his outfit, inspecting himself for even the smallest flaw. He was wearing something casual at Sam’s insistence, otherwise, he would be tugging on his fanciest suit he could find in his closet. He still made an effort to look put together, a white button-up and a pair of black pants. The outfit reminded him of a butler. He tried to comb his hair down but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the strands from standing up, so he eventually gave up. With a deep breath, he allowed himself to step away from the mirror. 

“You look incredible,” Sam breathed from behind him, wonderment shining in his eyes. Castiel wanted to keep that look on his face forever, the constant reassurance that he was enough for Sam. “How did I ever get so lucky?” 

“It should be me saying that.” 

“Nah,” Sam said, walking forward so he could stand behind Castiel, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on Castiel’s hair. Castiel melted into the embrace, letting himself be enveloped by the warmth Sam naturally seemed to emit. “I’m okay. But you? You’re gorgeous.” He kissed the top of Castiel’s head gently. 

“Sam Wesson,” Castiel said sternly, pulling himself away. “You take that back right now.” 

Sam gave him a cheeky grin. “Will you make me?” 

“If I must.” 

“Okay,” Sam whispered, then ducked his head so he could look deep into Castiel’s eyes. He waited for a few seconds until Castiel nodded his consent. It was only after that he allowed his lips to touch Castiel’s. The kiss was soft and gentle, filled with something that Castiel hoped was love. They hadn’t that word out loud yet; Castiel carefully turned it over in his head in bed but never voiced it. He was too scared to. 

He returned the kiss for a few minutes until they pulled away, each gasping slightly. Sam had a dopey grin on his face like it was the first time he had ever kissed Castiel; like it was his first time kissing anyone at all. Castiel loved that about him, how he managed to make every small gesture feel so special and perfect. It was an attribute that he appreciated in his partners. 

Castiel reached his hands up to tug them into Sam’s hair, about to pull him down for another kiss, then remembered what was happening that night, feeling a jolt of panic fill him. 

“Sam! We’re going to be late.” He pulled himself away, his hands forcefully tugging themselves away from Sam’s hair, pulling a few strands from his head. Sam winced in pain. Castiel apologized, still panicking. 

“Dean won’t mind if we’re late,” Sam grumbled, rubbing his head. 

“But I will,” Castiel shot back, grabbing his phone and wallet, shoving them into his trenchcoat. As much as he wanted to make a good impression on Sam’s older brother, he wasn’t about to abandon the ratty coat. It made him feel safe in a way, something he desperately needed. “Come on, let’s go.” 

The drive to Dean’s apartment, fifteen minutes away from Castiel’s place, was silent. The sounds of soft rock filled the car. Castiel didn’t care much for soft rock but Sam loved it. Castiel was good at pretending for Sam’s sake. Sam hadn’t quite figured out yet that Castiel didn’t actually like the music that was always playing and Castiel was going to make sure he never would. 

Castiel pulled into the parking garage of the apartment complex, the bright white lights blinding him for a brief second. He parked the car in a spot and shut the car off, stepping out into the chilly air. The parking garage was large with two stories of car spaces and smelled like gasoline. Outside, the sounds of police sirens filled the evening air. The sun dipped behind the city’s tallest building, leaving the streets in semi-darkness. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. This was it. 

“Hey,” Sam said gently. He took Castiel’s hand and squeezed. “You’re going to be okay. Dean is going to love you.” 

Castiel squeezed back. “I hope so.” 

Sam didn’t let go of his hand as he led Castiel through the parking garage to the front doors of the building. It was large and towering, bigger than Castiel’s own and he could only imagine the sheer amount of people living there. The inside interior was fairly simple but Castiel didn’t look around much, content to watch Sam as he pulled them towards the stairs. He brought them up to seven sets of stairs until he made it to a door Castiel knew would lead them to Dean. Sam gave him one more reassuring squeeze before letting go of Castiel's hand. He knocked on the door, three quick raps to announce their presence. 

Instantly the door was swung open, a buttery yellow filling the stairwell. The sounds of soft AC/DC flowed through the air and the smell of something cooking flooded Castiel’s nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, almost sneezing. 

“Sam! It’s good to see you man,” someone laughed. It was a lively sound, warm and cheerful. “I thought you would have forgotten.” 

“When was the last time I forgot our dinners?” Sam teased back. 

“Try every week of this month,” the man shot back. It sounded jokingly accusing but Castiel could see the brief moment of hurt that flashed across the man’s face before it disappeared. “I thought you left me.” 

“Oh please,” Sam scoffed, “If I could leave, I would have been gone years ago.” 

“Nothing’s keeping you here,” the man, who Castiel could only assume was Dean, said. “But we’ll ignore how you’ve been ghosting your brother all month and instead, you can introduce me to your boyfriend over there.” He nodded at Castiel, turning his body towards him. Castiel felt himself freeze in fear. 

The pictures Gabriel found on Instagram (and drooled over for days) did not prepare Castiel for how terrifying Dean was in real life. He was wearing a t-shirt with jeans and his feet were bare, an apron wrapped around his waist stained with food. A watch encircled his wrist, and his hands were covered in calluses and grease stains, evidence of the hard work he put into his business. He looked the same as he did in the picture; tanned skin and freckles across his cheeks with a cocky demeanour that commanded a room. But his green eyes were cold and heavy, filled with natural distrust. He looked like a man who had gone to war and didn’t regret a single thing that occurred on the bloodstained battlefield. They pinned him down, seemed to assess him quickly, judging every little thing about him before deeming him unworthy. Castiel couldn’t help it- he froze. 

“Dean,” Sam said, pushing Castiel forward into the apartment. Dean stepped aside as he did, and Castiel could feel relief fill him now that Dean’s piercing eyes were no longer on him. He felt some of the fear dissipate but bits still lingered. “This is Castiel. Castiel, this is Dean, my older brother and a pain in my ass.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, holding out his hand for Castiel to shake. Castiel hesitated for a second. It felt like a challenge that he couldn’t possibly live up to. Sam sent him a strange look and it was the only reason Castiel surrendered his hand. Dean grabbed it immediately, his grip slightly too tight. It was meant to be intimidating and Castiel was ashamed to say it worked. Castiel tried to meet his gaze, pretending to be impassive. Inside, he was trembling. 

He wasn’t a man that scared easily. But there was something about this man that terrified him. Ghosts floated behind him and Castiel could sense them. Memories hung over Dean’s head like a heady cloud and Castiel could see it pushing down upon his shoulders. He wondered what Dean could have done to deserve this fate. 

Eventually, Dean let go of his hand and Castiel stepped back, almost bumping into Sam. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said stiffly, still wanting to make a good impression. Trying to remain polite was nearly impossible but he somehow managed. Years of training from his parents was the only thing that kept him tethered. 

“You too man,” Dean replied, nodding. He turned to Sam and his demeanour changed, becoming playful. Sam noticed and held up his hands in a placating motion, taking a slow step back. Castiel watched his reaction with interest, wondering what was about to happen. 

“Dean, don’t you fucking dare-” 

“Too late!” Dean laughed as he dragged Sam down and shoved his fist into Sam’s head, mussing up his hair. Sam protested loudly, trying to wiggle himself out of his grasp but to no avail as Dean cackled. Castiel watched in amusement, trying to shake off the feeling of fear. As far as Castiel could see, Dean was nothing more than an annoying brother who loved to bother his sibling. Nothing more, nothing less, and he tried to forget the darkness in his green eyes. 

Watching the two brothers interact was a treat. Castiel had siblings but they had never acted like _this_. Perhaps when they were younger, when their parents refused to raise them and they were stuck with each other day after day, they might have. But the memories seemed far away and Castiel was starting to think they didn’t exist. When his siblings grew older, they turned cold and cruel, shunning him. It was incredible watching what could have been if Castiel’s own siblings were just a tad kinder. 

“Dean stop,” Sam cried, finally pulling himself away from his brother. His face was flushed with embarrassment as he tried to fix his mussed hair. “You don’t have to be an ass,” he muttered, ducking his head. “Especially in front of Cas.” 

Dean shrugged a small grin on his lips. “That’s what you get for ignoring me for a month. Paybacks a bitch, ain’t she?” 

Castiel nearly laughed but decided to stay quiet when Sam’s accusing look turned to him. “And you! You didn’t even _try_ to help me.” 

Castiel shrugged. “I didn’t see a reason to intervene.” 

“You’re both awful,” Sam muttered, grabbing Castiel’s hand and tugging him into the kitchen. Dean trailed behind him, still chucking to himself. “This was a mistake. I should have said no when I had the chance-” 

Castiel laughed, following Sam willingly, the man still muttering under his breath. The kitchen was small but cozy, with a few bubbling pots on the stove, in danger of overflowing. It smelled delicious and Castiel’s stomach grumbled. Dean obviously heard, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel tensed, not used to physical contact. Even Sam was extra careful around him when it came to touching. He was still wary of Dean and he thought about shoving the arm off of him, but decided it would be rude to do so. 

“Just in time,” he said, his voice right next to Castiel’s ear. “Dinner is almost ready.” 

“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Sam said slowly, “but Dean makes killer spaghetti sauce. Better than any I’ve ever had.” 

Dean released his hold on Castiel and went to the stove, lifting the lid on the largest one, steam pouring into the air. The liquid inside was bubbling. “You flatter me,” he replied, shutting off the flame and moving the pot to another burner. “Get some plates out.”

“You don’t already have that done?” 

“I was too busy preparing a delicious meal for you and your boy-toy over there. You expect me to do all the work while you get to be lovey-dovey, hell no. You pull your weight around here or I’ll kick you out.” 

“Someone’s touchy today,” Sam said, reaching into the tallest cupboard to pull out three plates. He gestured for Castiel to sit down at the table and Castiel complied, taking off his coat and hanging it on the chair. Sam came over and set a plate in front of him and two other chairs. Dean finished mixing up the sauce and called for them to come get their plates ready. Like always, Sam dished up for him, placing a generous amount of noodles and sauce onto the plate. Castiel thanked him and waited for everyone else to join him at the table before eating. 

Dinner passed with polite conversation. Dean explained how he owned a mechanic’s shop a few minutes away from his apartment, working with another woman named Charlie. Together, they fixed up old cars and engines, occasionally helping with welding as well. It was a small job but paid just enough for them to live comfortably. He was married to a girl named Lisa for a short while, but they divorced a few years ago. When Dean brought it up, through a joke that was meant to be casual, Castiel could see the pain and sadness in his face. It made the fear Castiel held for him loosen slightly. 

“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked with his mouth full of pasta. He pointed a fork at Castiel. “What’s your thing? Your story? What do you do?” 

“Dean, you don’t have to pry,” Sam muttered. 

“Hey, I’m just making conversation,” Dean argued. “Pardon me for wanting to know more about the guy.” 

“It’s fine Sam,” Castiel said calmly. He pushed his plate away, finished with the food. He was pleasantly full, the warmth in the air making him feel floaty. The small apartment felt like home to him, reminding Castiel of Sam. Despite Dean living in this place, he could see Sam’s influence in small corners. “I grew up in a religious family that I left when I was nineteen. I got a degree in business and wandered for a little while until my brother offered me a job at his workplace which is where I’m at right now. And then I met Sam.” 

“Ohh,” Dean said, leaning forward. “This should be good. Did you ask him or did he? Cause my brother isn’t the most upfront kinda guy. You should have seen him in high school. It’s no wonder he remained a virgin for as long as he did.” 

“Dean.” There was a warning written clear in Sam’s tone that both men ignored.

“He yelled at me to wait as I was walking away,” Castiel said, trying to sound as monotone as he could. He pursed his lips to hide his smile as Sam ducked his head with a groan. He enjoyed teasing Sam just as much as Dean did. Perhaps that was something they could have in common. “Then spent five minutes gathering the courage to ask me out for drinks.” 

Dean threw his head back and laughed loudly. Castiel couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle, feeling himself grow more at ease around Sam’s older brother. 

“That’s golden,” Dean wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye in amusement. “Sam, I knew you were hopeless but _this_? This is incredible. How did you ever manage to get yourself into a relationship?” 

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, sinking in his chair as Dean continued to chuckle. Sam’s face was flushed with embarrassment and Castiel felt guilt fill him. 

“Sam has many other redeeming qualities too,” Castiel said, jumping in to defend his partner. It was a joke between brothers but he couldn’t help it. He felt slightly responsible and wondered if maybe he took the teasing too far. “He’s attractive, incredibly intelligent and thoughtful. I’m very lucky to have someone like him in my life.” Beside him, Castiel could hear Sam ‘aww’ and he could imagine his sappy expression. Dean rolled his eyes as Castiel continued. “And he’s a very attentive lover-” 

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Dean said loudly, holding out his hand as Sam choked. “I do _not need_ to know what my brother is like in bed.” 

“Cas,” Sam said, laughing to himself. “Thank you but this is not necessary.” 

“Of course it is,” Castiel argued. “I insulted you without meaning to. I need to make up for it.” 

“That’s sickeningly sweet,” Dean muttered as Castiel beamed. 

Sam stood up with his plate and walked around the table to kiss Castiel on his head. Castiel could hear Dean pretend to throw up but he ignored it in favour of the feeling of Sam’s lips in his hair. Sam took Castiel’s and Dean’s dirty plates, walking over to the dishwasher to clean up. 

Together, they cleaned up the kitchen. Dean stayed at the table and relaxed, arguing that because he made supper, he didn’t need to clean. Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. 

When they were done, all three of them walked to the living room, collapsing onto the seats available. Sam and Castiel took the well-worn couch pushed against the wall. Dean walked back into the kitchen and came out holding a pack of beer, offering one to Castiel. He declined, wanting to remain sober for the drive home to Sam’s place, and Dean scoffed. He handed one to Sam and sat down on the seat across from them, cracking one open. 

The night grew darker as they swapped stories about their respective jobs. Dean and Sam continued drinking, Sam at a slower pace than his brother. The two of them seemed to have no end to the number of crazy people they met working as mechanics. Castiel didn’t have nearly as exciting tales as they did but he was able to describe some of his more impolite customers. After a particularly upsetting story about a woman who refused to stop calling him once she lost her shares, eventually even finding out where he lived and sending threatening messages to his door, Dean had exclaimed rather loudly, “You have the patience of a saint Cas. I would have gone right to the police, gotten that bitch locked up.” 

It made him excited, having Dean compliment him. It felt like Dean and him were becoming closer. It felt like Castiel really could make a home with the Wesson family. 

Eventually, they stopped talking, running out of things to share. Outside it was pitch black and a glance at the clock showed him it was 11 pm. He still had work at 6 am that he wasn’t looking forward to. He was about to turn to Sam and inquire about leaving when Dean opened his mouth to talk. 

“Why don’t you go get me some more drinks?” he said to Sam, his voice softer than it had all night. The alcohol combined with sleepiness mellowed him out. It was strange seeing him this way. Castiel nearly panicked, not knowing if he could stay any longer. Work would be hell the next morning. He didn’t think he could handle running on only a few hours of sleep. 

“Sure,” Sam said, getting up with a grunt. His legs cracked uncomfortably, tired of being bent all night. He took a few steps towards the kitchen door before turning back to Dean suspiciously. 

“This isn’t because you want to be alone with Cas is it?” 

“But Sam,” Dean whined. “It’s practically tradition at this point. You did the same to me, remember?” 

Sam considered it. Castiel watched them, filled with growing curiosity. “Fine,” he relented, sighing, and Castiel wondered what was going on. Dean let out a whoop, spilling a little drink onto his jeans. “But,” Sam continued, “go easy on him okay?” 

“Scouts honour,” Dean winked. 

“You don’t have any,” Sam muttered before leaving the room. Castiel could hear things start to clatter as Sam looked around, searching for more drinks. He tore his gaze away from the kitchen door to find Dean staring at him. 

“Okay, so this is how it’s going to go,” Dean started, rolling his eyes. “Dad isn’t here so I’m gonna have to give you the talk instead. You hurt Sammy, you die, blah blah blah, I’ll bust your kneecaps, blah blah blah, all that shit,” he said, sounding like he was wielding a script. It was typical stuff Castiel only seen done in movies but it was sweet of Dean to watch out for his younger brother. Castiel could respect that. “Damn, I think I’m a little drunk, what is this stuff?” He looked at the label, eyes trailing across the words, reading the ingredients. 

“I promise I won’t hurt your brother,” Castiel said softly. 

“You can’t promise things like that,” Dean replied, still reading. 

“I promise I’ll never hurt him knowingly.” 

That was a promise Castiel intended to keep. He knew that you couldn’t keep people from getting hurt; he knew people who were sheltered from birth, whose parents desperately wanted to keep their child safe and in the end, hurt them most of all. Castiel knew he was going to screw up eventually. He’d say something that would hit a sore spot in Sam that he didn’t even know existed- and one day Sam would do the same to him; they would fight as all couples do. Castiel couldn’t keep from hurting Sam, but he could try his damned best not to do it on purpose. 

It seemed like it was enough for Dean because he nodded once and turned back to his beer, taking a sip. The silence passed for a few seconds before he spoke up again. This time Dean’s voice held none of the practiced words he used before. They were spoken in low tones, no longer casual, and Castiel recalled the darkness in his eyes that he saw when he first laid eyes on Dean. The fear returned tenfold. 

“I mean it. You hurt Sam, I’ll kill you.” 

Castiel took a deep breath to steel his nerves. This time he knew Dean wasn’t joking. “I know.” 

“I like you Cas,” Dean continued, staring into his eyes. They pinned Castiel down, refusing to let him look away. “I’m serious. Lots of Sam’s previous dates have been shit but you? You’re okay. You’re good for him, you really are. There’s things we can’t talk about and things I can’t say without his permission, but I really hope you stick around enough to find them out.” He sounded wistful for a second and Castiel wanted to voice his agreement but decided to wait until he stopped talking. “I really think you’ll stick around. I hope you do.” 

“I hope so too,” Castiel whispered. 

“Good.” 

It seemed to be the end of the conversation because Dean stopped talking, stopped looking at Castiel, and stopped moving. He was looking into nothing, his thoughts elsewhere, and Castiel wondered what he was recalling. The air seemed thick, making it hard for Castiel to breathe, but logically he knew it was in his head. Instead, he leaned back, trying to pretend like he wasn’t terrified of being left alone with Dean. 

“Dean, did you even get another pack?” Sam interrupted, and both men whirled around to watch Sam come back out of the kitchen. The tense air was broken with his arrival and a grin spread across Dean’s face. Castiel took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He tried to tell himself it was foolish to be scared of his partner's brother. 

Dean held up the can in his hands teasingly. “This was the last one.” 

“You motherfucker,” Sam muttered, collapsing back on the couch. The couch creaked under his weight and Castiel moved closer to his partner, seeking comfort. He tried not to make it obvious. “He didn’t scare you that bad, did he Cas?” 

“Oh c’mon Sam,” Dean said, raising his drink in Sam’s direction. “You think I’m scary enough to frighten this guy?” He pointed at Castiel. “The man is a wall, I didn’t see a single emotion cross his face. Are you sure he’s not a robot?” 

“Don’t be a dick,” Sam said and Dean shrugged. 

“Shouldn’t you kids be on your way?” he asked, pointing at the clock and Sam startled. Castiel was internally grateful towards Dean; if he hadn’t pointed it out, he was sure Sam would stay another couple hours. One of the perks of running their own business was that they could choose what days to take off, and Castiel knew they would shut it down over something as simple as a hangover. He didn’t have that luxury. 

“Oh my God Cas, why didn’t you say anything?” Sam yelled, jumping up. He ran back into the kitchen and emerged again with Castiel’s coat. He threw it at Castiel who shrugged it back on, standing up as well. Dean and Castiel watched with amusement as Sam panicked. Castiel almost felt bad for not saying anything before when he had the chance. Maybe if he had he would have been able to avoid the threats as well. 

“I didn’t think I had to,” Castiel said. 

“We could have gone home hours ago.” 

“And leave your poor brother to his own devices?” Dean laughed. “How cruel of you. How did I get stuck with such an asshole for a brother? I thought I raised you better than that.” 

“Shut up Dean,” Sam said, heading to the entrance. He tugged on his shoes, gesturing for Castiel to do the same. Dean watched them from his seat, still holding his beer. He didn’t move but his eyes flicked back and forth from Castiel to Sam.

“This was wonderful,” Castiel said politely and Dean lifted his drink in acknowledgment. “Thank you for having me.” 

“You too,” Dean said. “Come visit anytime you get bored with Sammy there.”

“I’d never get bored with Sam,” Castiel said honestly.

“You’re so fucking sincere, aren’t you?” Dean said but there was a note of bitter mocking in his voice that Castiel tried to ignore. He wondered if that was a bad thing, if it was wrong of him to voice every little thought he had of Sam. 

“Come on Cas,” Sam said before he could reply. His hand was on the door handle, prepared to throw it open. “You’ve got work tomorrow. Bye Dean, I’ll see you soon.” 

Dean let out a hum, waving them out his door. Sam opened the door and Castiel stepped out, leaving Dean behind. The last image he had of Sam’s brother was him standing up from the chair, going towards something but Castiel couldn't make it out before the door was shut in his face. He was left staring at a blank door. It was colder than before and the concrete stairwell seemed to buzz with energy. Castiel shivered. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you,” Sam said, walking towards the stairwell. Castiel walked beside him, shoving his hands deep inside his pocket. 

“It’s perfectly fine,” Castiel lied. “I had fun.”

They walked back to the car, the parking garage eerily silent. It was the middle of the night and most people were dead asleep, giving the area a creepy vibe. Their footsteps echoed through the concrete building until they reached Castiel’s car. Castiel got into the driver's seat as Sam got into the passenger’s side. He reversed, pulling the car out onto the streets and back home. Both were tired, ready to fall into bed and sleep. Castiel was glad Sam had extra clothes in a bag at Castiel’s place so he could have comfortable clean clothes the next morning. 

They made it back before midnight, entering Castiel’s apartment in silence. The place was shroud in darkness, casting large shadows across the room. Castiel shut the door and took off his coat, hanging it on a hook on the wall. Sam walked inside, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter. 

“So?” he asked, the first words out of his mouth since they left Dean’s. 

“So?” Castiel repeated, raising his eyebrows. Sam huffed like he expected Castiel to understand. He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly on the stool. 

“Did you have fun?” 

Castiel thought about it for a few seconds. “It was very stressful,” he said slowly, not wanting to lie but also not knowing how to tell Sam that his brother terrified him more than anyone else he had known in his life. He didn’t think Sam would like hearing that but most of all, he didn’t know how to explain it. There was something in Dean’s eyes that he couldn’t quite pin down. Something he didn’t think he _wanted_ to know. “But yes, I enjoyed it. Your brother is very….interesting.” 

Sam snorted. “That’s one way to put it.” 

Castiel walked over, standing in front of Sam. Sam was sitting, his back curved in a way that Castiel knew was uncomfortable, which meant Castiel had the height advantage this time. It was strange having to look down at Sam. He was used to looking up at the man, getting on his tip-toes to kiss him in the mornings. 

Castiel placed his hands on Sam’s cheeks, feeling the warmth beneath the skin. Sam leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. A lengthy breath escaped his lips as if he had been holding it in all night. It occurred to Castiel that Sam might have been as nervous as him- after all, it was his family. 

“Don’t worry,” he comforted, trying to sound gentle. “It was a good visit. You don’t need to be worried.”

“Who said I was worried?” 

“Oh my dear,” Castiel chuckled, pressing his forehead to Sam’s. The apartment was silent and Castiel could hear Sam’s breathing. It was soothing. “It’s written all over your face.” 

“It’s that obvious?” 

“Only to me.” 

Sam sighed. “Cas,” he said softly, pulling his face away. Castiel’s hands dropped to his sides and he stepped away from Sam, feeling the sharp sting of rejection. Sam looked upset and his hands shook in his lap. He was worried and Castiel didn’t know how to make it better. “I have to tell you something.” 

Castiel nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. Sam was struggling with something, the words he kept trying to craft in his head failing him. Whatever it was, it was important, and whatever it was, Castiel knew he could handle it. For Sam’s sake.

Sam thought for a couple of seconds. He looked contemplative and Castiel tried to ignore the suspense that was building in him. Sam licked his lips a few times, then came to a decision. “But not right now. Tomorrow.” 

Castiel frowned. “But I’m already here.”

Sam smiled tiredly at him. “You’re drooping,” he pointed out and with a sinking heart, Castiel realized he was right. He felt tired and his brain was foggy. Critical thinking would be near impossible in his state. All he wanted to do was collapse into bed with Sam but curiosity burned through him. He wanted to know what Sam was about to say but he also knew there would be no swaying him from his decision. “I’ve already kept you up too late and you have work. What I have to say can wait. But I promise that I will be here.” 

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. The relieved grin Sam sent him made it worth it. Castiel could wait one more night, if only for Sam. 

Sam stood up and walked into the kitchen, switching on the light. He seemed more relaxed now that he had spoken up but it seemed false, like he was deliberately trying to pretend that they hadn’t planned out a date for their heart-to-heart. It almost made Castiel laugh. 

Sam reached into the tea cabinet and pulled down a box. He looked at Castiel expectantly. “You go get ready for bed, I’ll make you some tea to help you sleep.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Castiel said. He usually didn’t indulge in tea before bed but he sometimes liked it as a sleeping agent; lavender tea was wonderful when he couldn’t tumble into sleep. He watched Sam move around for a few more minutes, grabbing the kettle and his favourite mug, before moving to his bedroom. 

It was a simple, bland layout. The bed was in the middle of the wall, the headboard pushed up against it, with one nightstand to the left, and a desk to the right. The closet was on the opposite end of the bed and that was it. Castiel was ashamed of it when he first brought Sam over. He never noticed how plain the walls looked, how scratchy the blankets were, and how the dust seemed to pile into the corners until he pulled Sam into bed for the first time. But Sam didn’t seem to notice all the flaws Castiel could see and the night had been full of laughter and intimacy. And if Castiel had gone out the very next day and bought a brand new bedspread, some new lamps, and paintings for the walls, Sam never said anything. 

Now, Castiel pulled the burgundy blankets back against the back, fluffing up the pillows, and making sure that everything looked neat and orderly. Before Sam, he had slept with just his underpants on. But when Sam brought his own pair of pyjamas to the apartment, Castiel had gotten a pair too and he didn’t mind them much. He got dressed and pulled a housecoat over everything. He was about to sit on the bed and wait for Sam to come when he heard a grunt of pain and something fall to the floor. It sounded soft and muffled. 

Instantly, Castiel was up, heading to where Sam was. If he had gotten hurt in any way, Castiel wanted to know immediately. He could feel worry filling him. 

“Are you okay?” he called into the apartment, walking down the hallway into the kitchen. He thought he heard someone laugh quietly, but he didn’t have time to register it before he emerged into the kitchen. As soon as he got his bearings, he faltered, feeling himself freeze in shock. 

There was a man Castiel had never seen before in his kitchen, a gun in his hands that Castiel was willing to bet was loaded. Sam was on his knees beside him, the man’s hand wrapped tightly over his mouth, pushing the side of Sam’s head against his thigh oppressively. The gun, held in the man’s other hand, was pressed against Sam’s forehead, pushing harshly into his skin. Sam looked angry, his eyes filled with rage at his helpless position. On the stove Castiel could see the kettle; this man had gotten the jump on Sam when he was distracted with something else. 

“Well, I see the rumours are true,” the man laughed condescendingly, looking towards Castiel. Castiel didn’t dare to move, not wanting to provoke the man with the gun pressed against Sam’s skull. Inside his head, he mentally evaluated what he could do and ultimately came up with nothing. “Sammy here has got himself a new flame. Wasn’t the first one enough for you?” he teased. Sam shouted something that was muffled underneath the man’s large hand that sounded like a curse. 

“Who are you?” Castiel said, not letting his voice waver. Sam’s life was on the line and he had no way to call the police. They were on their own. He had to deal with this on his own. 

“You think I’m stupid enough to tell you?” 

“Of course not,” Castiel said, holding up his hands to show that they were empty. He hoped it was enough of a surrender for the man. “Look, if you want money, there is some extra stuff on the bookshelf. It’s in a false book. I- I can get it for you.” 

Sam’s eyes widened and he tried to shake his head no, but the hand wrapped around his head prevented him from moving much. All he could do was rest his head against the thigh and remain silent. Castiel could see how much Sam wanted to run and he mentally hoped that he wasn’t going to try anything. If the man wanted money, Castiel would gladly trade it for Sam’s life, but Sam had to trust him. 

“Oh honey,” the man said. Castiel shuddered at the pet name, feeling disgusted at the patronizing tone that dripped from the man’s mouth. “I don’t want money. But thanks for the tip.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“I came over to find out who you were. But what do I see when I walk right in- _right in,_ you should really make sure to lock your door more often- but _Sam Winchester_ , defenceless and without a clue, making tea. I only came over here for information, but this?” The man laughed arrogantly. “This is so much better. What do you think Dean Winchester will say when he finds out we have his little brother? Do you think he’d be angry? Do you think he’d swear revenge? Would he cry?” the man mocked, his voice going octaves higher. Castiel could see Sam’s shoulders shake. The only thing keeping him from lashing out was the gun at his head and even that was slowly starting to lose meaning. But Castiel was only focused on one thing. 

“Winchester?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “There’s no Winchester here, you must have gotten the wrong apartment.” 

The man paused for a second before he burst out laughing. It was loud and crude, and Castiel wanted to cover his ears to escape from it. 

“He didn’t tell you?” the man leered, shaking with laughter. “Oh, that’s just _precious_.” He pressed the gun harder into Sam’s skull. “When were you planning on telling him huh? Or were you just going to lie to him forever?” 

“Sam,” Castiel said, keeping his gaze locked on the man in front of him. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know who or what Winchester meant. But it had something to do with Sam, and he wondered if this was what Sam wanted to talk about before. “What is going on?” 

“Sorry sweetheart,” the man said dismissively. “He can’t answer right now. But I can.” He looked down at Sam, a cruel gleam in his eyes. Castiel watched as the grip on the gun loosened; Sam noticed too. “How would that make you feel, watching as I expose _everything_ about you? Do you want me to lay your sins down in front of him? What do you think he’ll say when he finds out who you truly are?” 

Sam didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. But he did throw his head back, maneuvering out of the hold, and before the man could react, Sam sunk his teeth into the hand that was snuggly wrapped around his mouth. Blood squirted out of the open wound, dripping down into Sam’s throat and down his chin. The man screamed and Sam used the opportunity to propel himself up, kneeing the man in the groin as he did. He scrambled away, heading towards Castiel and grabbed his hand, about to run back into the bedroom when the gun clicked behind them. They both froze and slowly turned around, the blood still fresh and shiny around Sam’s lips. The man looked angry, one hand dripping blood onto the floor, the other hand pointing the gun straight at them. Castiel didn’t know much about weapons but he knew that the safety was off, and one single movement from the man’s trigger finger determined if they lived or died. 

“Oh you little bitch,” the man snarled, looking at Sam. “It’s such a shame we need you alive,” he spat out bitterly, “or you’d be dead right now. But him?” Castiel felt the breath catch in his throat as the gun was turned on him. “We don’t need him.” 

“Don’t,” Sam said. It was an attempt to sound strong but Castiel could hear the tremble in his voice. It was nearly a beg and they all knew it. The man smirked, knowing he had found Sam’s Achilles heel. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” he whispered. “Watching the people you love die? When will you realize that this isn’t going to end well for you.” 

“I know,” Sam replied, sounding resigned. Castiel looked at him and could see the pain and fear written plain as day across his lovely features. He ached to reach out and smooth away the lines, and to whisper that it would be okay; that Castiel would be fine. But he couldn’t move, not with the weapon pointed at him. 

The man smiled, his pearly white teeth bright in the dim lighting. Castiel could see the slight shift in his hand as he pushed down on the trigger. Castiel closed his eyes, not wanting to see the bullet fly at him. He didn’t want to see Sam’s face as he died. He didn’t move, allowing himself to embrace death without a lick of fear on his face. But when nothing came, he opened his eyes once more. 

The man’s face was contorted in pain, his face twisted into something resembling shock. His lips were open in a silent scream as the light slowly died in his eyes until there was no evidence that there had been conscience at all. The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering on the floor and Castiel allowed himself to feel relief for a single second. He still didn’t know what happened or if they were out of danger, but at least the weapon was no longer in his face. 

The man slumped to his knees, then his face, laying still, and Castiel knew he was dead. He raised his eyes to look at what killed him, dreading the answer, wondering if they had just traded in one monster for another. 

Dean didn’t say anything, just spit onto the man's corpse. A bloody knife was held in his hand, still slick with crimson, and he threw it down as well. He looked calm but in his eyes was a storm, filled with twisting emotions and barely concealed rage. They looked like a deep green, like dark forests at night that hid monsters Castiel could only imagine. 

“Dean,” Sam said, sounding relieved. Dean’s head snapped up and he stepped over the corpse without a second thought, his eyes trailing up and down Sam, frantically looking for injuries. 

“Are you alright?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, we’re both fine,” Sam replied, looking at Castiel. Castiel didn’t feel fine; he felt like screaming but nothing would pass through his lips. He couldn’t make his mouth move and he knew he would start hyperventilating soon. “But how did you-” 

“You think I don’t have cameras in this place?” Dean rolled his eyes as if he hadn’t just killed someone right in front of Castiel. As if he hadn’t just taken someone's life in cold blood. “As soon as you mentioned Castiel I got some stuff installed. Can’t be too cautious. When you got back I saw someone follow you inside and well,” he shrugged, “now we’re here.” 

“I can’t say I’m happy you did that but thank you,” Sam responded. “I really wished you would have asked me first before putting cameras in Cas’s apartment complex but-” he paused then turned to Castiel with worried eyes. “Oh my god Cas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen to you, this is my fault-” 

“Slow down,” Dean muttered, holding up a hand to stop Sam from rambling anymore. “It’s not your fault, it’s this douchebags.” He kicked the body lightly and Castiel felt like throwing up. Someone had just died in his apartment. The blood was seeping into his carpet and he didn’t know what to do. The murderer was his partner's older brother and there was nothing in the world that could have prepared him to deal with that. 

“How are you going to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Dean interrupted. Sam glared at him but Dean barely seemed fazed. “I’ll handle it.” 

He turned to Castiel, holding up his hands to show that he had no weapon. Tiny flecks of blood stained his fingertips in the hand that held the knife and Castiel couldn’t breathe. It was a stark reminder of what just happened and he wanted to forget it, to burn the image of the man's final moments from his brain. 

Hey buddy,” Dean said softly. “Are you okay? Anything you want to say?” 

Castiel shook, still trying to process everything. He couldn’t answer Dean, could feel the previous fear he felt for him start to bubble up again. Dean seemed so casual, a feeling that Castiel didn’t think was warranted in this type of situation. 

“Oh for God's sake,” Sam muttered and he pulled Dean away. “You’re terrible at this.” He ignored Dean’s squawk of protest, instead looking deep into Castiel's eyes. “You’re going to be okay, alright?” he promised, his voice a gentle whisper. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? Follow my lead.” He took a deep breath in and then exhaled, looking at Castiel expectantly. Castiel didn’t know what else to do so he followed Sam’s directions. He took a shaky breath in, then out, repeating it. He could feel himself start to calm down as the oxygen circulated through his body once more. “Good job,” Sam said, continuing to breathe with Castiel until he was steady. “You did so well Cas, I’m proud of you.” 

“What just happened?” he asked when he found his breath again. It was raspy and he could barely recognize it. It sounded like he was on the verge of sobbing. He _felt_ like he was on the verge of sobbing. “Who was that? Why did he call you Winchester?” 

Sam winced and shared a nervous look with his brother. Dean‘s face was unreadable but he shrugged slightly before looking away. It looked almost like permission. 

“Okay,” Sam sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I lied to you before. It was never my intention, I swear. I was going to tell you eventually-” 

“Hurry up,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, and Sam glared at him. Castiel watched their interaction with wide eyes. 

“Hang on a sec!” Sam took a deep breath, gathering courage. He squeezed his eyes shut, like he was terrified of Castiel’s reaction. “My name isn’t actually Sam Wesson.” 

Castiel felt his heart sink to his stomach. So it was all a lie. The past month, which seemed like pure heaven just a few minutes ago, was fabricated. Sam- or whoever he actually was- strung him along on some game that he didn’t understand, and it hurt more than he thought it could. 

“My name is actually Sam Winchester,” Sam said, “and that is my brother, Dean Winchester.” He pointed behind him to Dean and the man waved. Castiel almost waved back before remembering what was happening. “So I didn’t technically lie about everything. My first name is still Sam.” 

“Why would you lie?” Castiel asked, his voice becoming stronger. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, he felt scared and angry. There was a dead body on his floor and Sam was acting like it was normal. Maybe it was for him, and that thought made Castiel’s stomach turn. The idea of Sam being so used to death and murder made him feel disgusted. 

“Oh boy,” Dean muttered. “Hey Cas, try and remember where else you’ve heard the name Winchester. Can you do that for me?” 

Castiel thought long and hard for a few seconds but his brain felt like it was fried. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else besides what was currently before him, let alone a name he never heard of in his life. He shook his head no, and Dean sighed. 

“Do you remember who were the confirmed victims out of the 28 bodies they found last year?” 

Castiel tried to recall the names. It should have been easy for him. For months after the attack, the three names had been plastered everywhere, multiple news articles digging into their personal lives. This was easy information for anyone living in the city, but now they seemed to evade him, the words just out of reach. Eventually, through deep thought, he was able to recite them. 

“Ryan Salem, Eddie Picksworth and John Winche….” he trailed off as he finally understood. It was like a sharp punch to the gut as he finally connected the dots. He shook his head wildly. “No, that’s not true.” 

“It is,” Dean confirmed. “John Winchester is our father and he-” Dean stopped talking to him and instead leaned towards Sam, whispering loudly. It was futile; Castiel could hear every word. “How much do you want to tell him?” 

Sam sighed. He moved his face away from Dean’s and back to Castiel’s. “How much do you want to know?” he asked. 

Castiel licked his lips nervously. Any of the previous tiredness he felt was gone, replaced with adrenaline and fear. He just watched Dean murder someone in front of him and part of Castiel still wanted to believe it didn’t happen. But the sharp tang of iron rang through the air and Sam was looking at him with worry in his eyes. There were so many questions that raced through his mind and he wanted to fully understand what just happened. He was being given a choice and he was going to make the right decision. 

“Everything.” 


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> castiel does NOT have a banging time :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might be writing more spn stuff but idk. but this was fun, i haven't been able to write for so long. and for some reason, this helped me. so y'know, thanks to spn ig. 
> 
> Uh, thanks for reading!! if there are any spelling mistakes, pls tell me

He sat on the couch, clutching a cup of tea tightly in his hands. The warmth grounded him, the centres of his palms burning against the ceramic. Dean had taken out a blanket to cover the body with, and now that it was covered, Castiel felt a little bit better. Across from him was Sam, looking nervous. He fiddled with the edges of his sleeves, refusing to look Castiel in the eyes. 

They had told Castiel everything. Starting from the day their house was set on fire and their mother burned inside, going deep into their childhood and their father’s insistence on revenge, ending on the day that John died and Dean begged Sam to come back and help him find the killers once and for all. How their mechanic business was just a front so they wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. How the city was being terrorized by a gang known only as the Demons that they were trying to stop. 

“We’re like vigilantes” Dean had said, sounding oddly proud of it. 

They explained that the Demons were a gang that emerged thirty years ago. They specialised in drug and human trafficking, gaining influence over the city. They were careful, Sam recited, and so far they haven’t drawn major attention to themselves. But they were rich, they were powerful, and they were the bad guys. Dean and Sam were dedicated to stopping them along with a group of people under their command. They had been working to eradicate them for years, ever since their mother died, and they weren’t going to stop until the Demons were off the street permanently. 

Castiel’s thoughts tumbled around what he now knew. It seemed so unreal, so unbelievable, so outlandish, but he knew in his heart it was the truth. What they told him, what they confessed, was genuine. He struggled to understand how his Sam could ever be a pawn in the bloodiest day of the city’s history. 

“Well,” Dean announced, looking uncomfortable. Castiel would be too if he had to spill all his secrets to a man he barely knew. Dean brushed off his hands and placed them on his hips. He looked down at the blanket covering the body, his toe probing the limp form. “I’ll send someone later to get this. They’ll take it out in a container, if anyone asks, just say you’re sending stuff over to your boyfriend’s place.” 

Castiel nodded, not saying a word. He looked deep into Dean’s eyes, trying to find a sliver of guilt, anything to prove to him that there was still a human being underneath the layers of evil, but he couldn’t find anything. Then it hit him, what he had been scared of all night. What haunted him the second he laid eyes on Dean for the first time. 

Castiel was raised with a strong moral compass; everything was laid out perfectly, the rules that dictated his life written clearly.  _ Thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not lie, thou shalt not kill _ \- Castiel resisted the urge to throw up, not looking at the blanket on the floor that covered a major sin-  _ thou shalt not rape, thou shalt not commit adultery.  _ From the beginning, it was obvious to him what his parents expected of him, and he brought these morals with him into adulthood, the way most people did. He knew without a doubt in his mind if his parents ever knew he had blood on his hands, they wouldn’t hesitate in turning him in. But Dean was different. Dean was raised in an environment where morals didn’t matter; an environment where John didn’t care what sins were committed. Hell, he probably rewarded the worst of them. Dean was free of the rules that Castiel abided by in his day-to-day life, thus he had no way to understand how awful they were. And with a jolt, Castiel realized Sam was raised in the same way. 

Sam still hadn’t said anything, guilt clouding his eyes. 

“I’m going home,” Dean continued. He looked at Sam, his expression serious. “Sam, if anything else happens, make sure to call me.” 

“Okay Mom,” Sam muttered, the first words he had spoken for a while. His tone was filled with fond annoyance. 

“Don’t sass me, young man,” Dean replied, half-teasing. “Take care of your boyfriend over there, he looks pretty shaken up.” Sam nodded. 

“Good night Dean.” 

“Night.” Dean nodded solemnly, then left the apartment with a slam of the door. Castiel was left behind with a terrible secret, a lying boyfriend, and a dead body that filled the room with the smell of drying blood. 

The room was silent for a few minutes. Neither knew what to say. Everything seemed so ruined between them. Castiel desperately wanted to go back to the days before he knew Sam’s last name wasn’t Wesson, when he thought Sam was a simple mechanic, when he foolishly believed that they could spend the rest of their lives together. Now Castiel didn’t know what to do. 

“Would you like to sleep?” Sam asked, sounding unsure. Castiel remained silent, trying to think it over. His head was muddled, thought clamouring for his attention. In the end, he surrendered and stood up, setting his tea on the coffee table. 

“Can I join you?” 

Castiel looked over Sam. He looked upset, like a kicked puppy, still refusing to look Castiel in the eyes. He seemed genuinely guilty over what happened. A voice in Castiel’s head sneered, saying “ _ he’s only upset because he got caught.”  _ Castiel didn’t disagree with it. But for some ineffable reason, he still loved Sam. He still coveted the domestic they planned together and he couldn’t bring himself to completely shut Sam out. 

“Do what you want,” he muttered, walking away back to the bedroom. He could hear Sam hesitantly stand up, following him. Castiel entered the bedroom and collapsed in the bed, trying to ignore how Sam lingered by the doorway. Neither knew what to do; neither had ever been in this position. 

Soon Castiel slipped beneath the covers of the mattress. He reached over to the lamp, about to shut it off when he looked at where Sam hadn’t moved an inch. He was waiting for permission, Castiel realized, permission to enter his bed. No matter how turbulent things were between them, he wasn’t letting Sam sleep in the same room as a corpse. He barely knew how he was going to handle sleeping underneath the same  _ roof _ as a dead body, the presence like a thick layer of oil over his skin. 

“Well?” he whispered. “Are you coming?”

Sam slowly walked into the room, tugging off his shirt. His pyjamas were in the top drawer as they always were and he put them on quickly, getting ready to sleep. He crawled onto the bed, under the covers with Castiel, and Castiel finally shut off the lamp, darkness filling the room. 

They laid in silence. Outside, Castiel could hear police sirens. They were normal. They happened every night. But this time all Castiel could imagine were dozens of cops rushing up into his apartment, kicking down the door, and arresting them both. Part of Castiel resented Sam for putting him in this position. Another part of Castiel knew that it was between him and the dead man in the other room. If Dean hadn’t come when he did, Castiel wouldn’t still be breathing and Sam would be in some villains clutches. Dean did what he had to do; Castiel just wished there was some reluctance in his eyes, some admission of guilt instead of cold, hard indifference. 

“Cas,” Sam said, his voice trembling. It was strange, hearing Sam’s voice crack. He normally sounded so self-assured. “I am so sorry. I never wanted this.” 

Somehow, it was easier to face Sam like this, when he couldn’t see Sam’s shimmering eyes. All he could see was a black lump hidden under the heavy blankets of their bed. 

“Never wanted what?” Castiel asked. He was tired and his state of mind made him cruel. “This relationship? This murder? What do you regret, Sam?” 

“This life,” he replied, his voice small. They weren’t touching, not a single part of them. Castiel felt cold despite the blankets on top of him. He longed to reach out to Sam but he resisted. “Please Cas, you have to believe me. I- I got out.” 

That was surprising. “You did?” 

Castiel could hear the pillow rustle as Sam nodded his head. “I went to Stanford you know. I was pre-law, I wanted to be a criminal prosecutor. I studied hard to get in and I managed to get a full-ride scholarship. I never wanted to do anything that my father and brother were doing, and I  _ left, _ Castiel. They may have been comfortable with revenge, with everything they were doing, but I never was. I never wanted it so I left it behind. I had a normal life for a short time. A girlfriend and everything, far away from this.” He took a shaky breath in. “When I told John that I wanted to go to university, he told me if I ever left, I wasn’t allowed to come back. I said that was fine with me, and then I  _ did. _ ” 

Castiel swallowed thickly. Sam hadn’t said anything about this when Dean was around. Stanford- one of the best universities in the world. He knew Sam was intelligent but that was impressive. Full-ride too. 

“Then why did you leave?” 

Sam was quiet and when he spoke again, his voice was filled with regret. “I dropped out a year ago, one day after my father was found dead. Dean came to me begging to help him find out who killed him. What could I do, Cas?” 

“So all of this, everything that you’re doing and everything that you’ve done, is for John?” 

“ _ Don’t, _ ” Sam snapped sharply. Castiel nearly jumped back at the force behind the words, not used to hearing hatred in Sam’s tone. “I never mourned my father,” Sam continued. “I never wanted anything to do with him. He wasn’t a good man, Cas, and he was an even worse father.” He sighed. “No, Cas, I stayed for Dean.” 

“You’re not your brother's keeper,” Castiel said plainly. 

“I know. And he’s not mine. But I still mourn for him.” 

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t understand anything that was going on. “Dean’s not dead.” 

“No, he’s not,” Sam agreed. “But if he continues, he will be. You saw what they did to John, you know what they’ll do to him. Dean….Dean wants what my father wanted. He wants to finish what was started, and he's going to run himself into the ground to get it done. I said it before: my father wasn’t a good man and he was an even worse father- Dean raised me better than he ever did. I owe him. It’s my turn to protect Dean. And when this is over, we can have a simple life. The mechanic shop may be a front but Dean is a miracle worker with engines. The quicker we finish this, the quicker he can run it for real. The quicker we finish, the quicker I can go back to Stanford.” 

“So you stay because of Dean?” Castiel asked. 

“Yes. I may not have been able to protect my father but I can protect Dean.” 

Castiel mulled it over. He wouldn't try to pretend to understand what Sam was talking about. His siblings were cruel, his parents distant. He grew up in a giant mansion, never wanting for anything while Sam grew up among murderers and drug dealers. Castiel grew up with new clothes every month; Sam grew up getting hand-me-downs from Dean. They had vastly different childhoods, and Castiel knew he would never feel that same level of devotion that Sam carried with him every day. He owed nothing to his siblings. 

Then something occurred to him. Something he hadn’t even thought to ask before. He licked his lips, almost dreading the answer. But it was critical information; it would change everything. 

“Sam,” he started, squeezing his eyes shut though he knew there would be no physical pain. “Have you ever killed someone?” 

“Me? Oh God no,” Sam said, sounding disgusted. Castiel felt himself relax. Sam’s tone was filled with genuine revulsion and Castiel trusted it. “I refused to. It caused a lot of problems between me and John.” 

“At least that’s something,” Castiel said into the darkness. So it was Dean and John who oversaw that portion of the job. He was relieved to know that Sam wasn’t like that, that Sam still had a chance to get out. 

It made him believe that maybe they still had a chance to be together. 

Dean? Dean was irredeemable in Castiel’s eyes. He had committed a massive sin when he stabbed that man in Castiel’s apartment. When he killed god-knows-who-else. There was no going back for him. But Sam? Sam still had a chance to live a normal life, Sam could still go to Stanford and become a lawyer, Sam could still have that domestic life he wanted with Castiel. Castiel wanted to pull Sam away, to give him the money to afford proper schooling. He knew Sam wouldn't leave by his own volition again; Sam would stay by Dean’s side to the end. The only way to help Sam- and part of Castiel resented himself for what he was going to do- was to follow Sam deeper into his life. If he helped them, if he prevented Sam from going in too deep, there was still a chance they could both make it out. Castiel could help Sam live a normal life but to do so, he had to make sure Sam believed that Castiel was on his side. 

After all, wasn’t it still Sam? No matter what name was behind his first, it was still Sam. 

He reached over and pawed across the pillow, trying to find Sam in the dark. Eventually, he touched skin- Sam’s face- and cupped his cheeks, brushing pieces of hair away. He slid himself over, finally allowing himself to touch Sam once more. 

“I can’t say that I understand this,” he whispered. “But I want to be here for you. As long as you promise me that you will never let your hands harm another human being.” 

“Really? Are you serious?” Sam asked, his voice full of tentative awe. “I- I promise, Cas, if that is enough to get you to stay.” 

Castiel swallowed. “Yes,” he lied. “I want to be with you no matter what. What your family does isn’t going to change that. I love you, Sam, no matter what your last name is.” 

Castiel knew the risks; he knew what would happen if he continued down this road. But he didn’t care, not if there was a chance to save Sam, not if there was a chance to pull Sam away from the dark road he was travelling on. 

“I want to join your family business,” he said, feeling the weight of the words crash upon him. Sam’s lips were suddenly on his, full of warmth and passion, and it almost made him forget about the deal he just made, about the body in the other room, and about the evils that now seemed to follow him around as well. 

* * *

The next morning he awoke to find the bed empty and half of the day already gone. When he saw the time and realized he should have been at work four hours ago, he panicked. He scrambled out of bed, pushing the blankets to the floor, already thinking of excuses to tell his boss. He reached into the closet, grabbing the first suit he found, and he was about to tug it on when someone cleared their throat behind him. 

Castiel turned, breathing heavily to see Sam standing at the bedroom door, smirking. He looked amused at Castiel’s antics and Castiel could see he was already dressed for the day in his usual outfit- flannel, a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. He looked all too comfortable after what happened last night-

Last night. 

With a jolt, Castiel remembered everything that happened when they got home from Dean’s place. The murder, the reveal, and the late-night conversation ran through his head, slamming into him with the weight of a train. He nearly stumbled backwards with the realization. 

“Good morning sleepy-head,” Sam joked, not seeing Castiel’s distress. “Don’t worry, I called your workplace and told them you were sick. You have the rest of the week off.” His eyes softened. “You need to recover after what happened.” 

Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He set down the suit gently, feeling himself start to relax. The deal he made seemed all the more real in the morning- but for some strange reason, it felt easier to deal with. Castiel’s head was slowly clearing away the sleep that still clung to him and he knew he would be able to think of something now that he was no longer sleep-deprived. 

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, moving a hand through his hair. Sam nodded, then held out his hand. Castiel reluctantly took it, feeling the warmth of Sam’s skin. 

“Come on, I made you breakfast.” At Castiel’s terrified look, he pouted childishly. “Don’t worry, it’s toast and eggs. No one can screw that up.” 

Castiel nearly laughed at Sam’s pout but he couldn’t bring himself to do so as Sam tugged him out of the bedroom towards the kitchen, towards the living room where the dead body lay. He didn’t want to see it, didn’t want another reminder of what happened. But when they emerged from the hallway, the living room was clear. There was no evidence that just a few hours ago a dead man was bleeding into Castiel’s carpet. 

“Dean came by a few hours ago,” Sam explained, seeing Castiel looking at the empty floor. “Don’t worry, it’s been taken care of.” 

It made things easier. Castiel’s apartment looked normal. Even the smell of drying blood was gone, replaced with a sweet lilac scent. 

Sam kissed Castiel’s cheek, then led him into the kitchen where a plate was waiting for him. Sam set it down in front of him at the counter and Castiel slid into a stool, watching Sam as he made a cup of coffee for Castiel. Sam was humming under his breath, looking more happy and elated than Castiel had ever seen him. He wanted to ask what was making him so cheerful but he already knew. 

_ “I want to join your family business.”  _

“By the way,” Sam said, setting down the cup full of coffee. “Dean wants us to stop at his apartment right after this.” At Castiel’s flinch, he quickly backtracked. “Only if you want to, of course. We just need to confirm a couple of things with him if you’re really going to stay with us.” 

_ If you’re really going to join the business  _ was left unsaid. 

“I-” Castiel started, suddenly not feeling very hungry. He still ate his breakfast, knowing that he had to keep his head clear and his strength up. It would also be an insult towards Sam, who clearly tried very hard to make sure Castiel was comfortable. 

“You don’t have to do this Cas,” Sam said gently, reaching over and placing a hand over Castiel’s. “You made that deal last night when you were sleep-deprived and just witnessed something horrible. If you want to leave, you can.” There was something haunted in Sam’s eyes as he spoke. “Though, in your best interest, I would advise you to stay.” 

Castiel took a deep breath, then gently flipped his hand so he could intertwine their fingers together. He would stay with Sam until the end and he would rescue Sam from the life that would ruin him. He would do anything in his power to give Sam the domestic life he deserved, and he couldn’t do that unless Sam let him in. 

“All I want, my dear,” he whispered, “is you. No matter what. No matter where we are, no matter what you do. You’re  _ good, _ Sam, and I will follow you anywhere.” 

“Thank you Cas,” Sam laughed wetly, leaning down to kiss Castiel. Castiel eagerly kissed him back. For a second, it was almost like things were back to normal. But then Sam pulled away, love and devotion shining in his eyes, and told him to get ready to go. Castiel nodded, finishing the cup of coffee, then going into the bedroom to get dressed. He brushed his teeth and put on some cologne, then joined Sam in the kitchen. 

Together, they left Castiel’s apartment, and some hidden part of Castiel told him that it would be the last time he saw it. He ignored it and joined Sam in the car, heading back towards Dean’s place. 

When they got there, they were quickly ushered inside and brought back into the living room. Empty beer cans covered the place, evidence last night's visit. Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean. But he forced his head to move until he was staring into piercing green eyes filled with suspicion. He tried to keep his face passive, not letting a single emotion slip through. 

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, slapping his brother on the back. His tone held a hint of worry. “You and your boyfriend talk things out?” 

“We did,” Sam said, his eyes shining with awe and pure happiness. Castiel shifted uneasily beside him. Dean turned his eyes towards Castiel, still not convinced. 

“Well,” Dean sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I have to say, I really don’t know what to do here. We’ve never just….welcomed someone into this life. I warned Sam about getting too close but you know this one! Never listens.” His eyes bore into Castiel’s own, until Castiel had no choice but to look away. “Tell me honestly Cas. Are you serious? Do you truly want this?” 

Castiel looked towards Sam who smiled at him reassuringly. It settled Castiel’s nerves, giving him a jolt of confidence. He could do this, especially with Sam beside him. 

He didn’t want to lie to Dean; somehow he knew Dean would pick up on it. But he could tell half-truths. He was always good at those. 

“I just want Sam to be happy,” he said, leaning forward. It was true. He knew that Sam would never be happy in this life, and he knew that he could give Sam the peace he deserved. If Dean took it to mean something else, then that was on him. 

Dean searched his face for any signs of lying, his eyes hard. “Are you sure this is what you want? We’re not the bad guys, Cas, and you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But this is dangerous work.” 

“I promise,” Castiel replied. “I want to be with Sam. If this is what it takes, then so be it.” 

The room was silent as Castiel’s words sunk in. Then Dean’s face broke into a wide grin that nearly shocked Castiel. He threw his arm around Castiel’s shoulder, punching him playful in the arm. “Atta boy,” he laughed. “I knew I liked you. You picked a good one, Sammy.” 

Sam watched them from the sidelines, a smile on his lips. Castiel silently begged him for help and he just shrugged. It felt too normal, too much like a meeting between friends. Getting in had been much easier than Castiel thought. He expected to have to prove himself in some way. He was thankful he didn’t have to do anything of the sort. 

Eventually, Dean let him go. “Anyway,” he said, brushing himself off, “you probably won’t have to do much of the grunt-work. Leave that stuff to the men,” he winked playfully, ignoring Sam's indignant groan.“You and Sammy can stay here. Maybe you’ll do some paperwork, a little bit of research, some ass-kicking-” he stopped and furrowed his eyebrows. “That reminds me. I’m taking you to the gun range tomorrow and showing you how to properly work a weapon.”

“I- What?” 

“Cas, Cas Cas,” Dean said, wagging a finger patronizingly. “If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need to know how to shoot a gun.” 

Castiel’s brain short-circuited and his stomach turned deep within his body, and he nearly threw up. He knew he was getting himself into shady stuff when he agreed to stay with Sam. But this never crossed his mind, the thought that he would have to learn to shoot a weapon. Somehow, it seemed more final. 

When he was a kid, his grandfather brought him hunting for the first and last time. Castiel didn’t want to go but his grandfather insisted, and it got to a point where it would have been rude to decline. Together, they went out into the woods, rifles in their hands and water flasks by their hips. His grandfather pointed out a standing deer who was drinking out of a pond and told Castiel to shoot. Castiel threw down the gun in protest, alerting the deer to their presence. The deer ran away, Castiel was yelled at, and he never went hunting again. He didn’t like killing helpless things.

“Dean, go easy on him,” Sam sighed and Dean rolled his eyes. 

“He agreed to this. Unless he changed his mind already?” His tone was teasing but Castiel could hear the challenge in his words; Dean still didn’t believe he was sincere. 

“No I haven’t,” he shot back, trying to appear strong, pushing back the nausea in his stomach. “I don’t give up that easily. Haven’t I already said I’m not leaving Sam?” 

“Cas, you don’t have to,” Sam said, glaring at Dean. 

“No. I want to.” 

Even Dean looked impressed at that. Sam looked at him with a mixture of surprise and happiness in his eyes, and again, Castiel was glad he was the one putting that expression on his face. 

“Then we have a plan,” Dean laughed, recovering from his shock. He slapped Castiel on the back and Castiel winced. He knew it was a show of friendship but it still hurt. “I have to go to a job so I’m leaving you two crazy kids in charge.” He winked. “Don’t get into too much trouble, you hear me.” 

Sam snorted. “Just go,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“Will do,” Dean replied, grabbing his coat. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

They waved goodbye as Dean left, leaving the apartment in silence. Once Dean was fully out the door, Sam turned to Castiel. 

“Come on,” he said mischievously. “I want to show you something.” 

Castiel hesitantly followed Sam down the hallway to an unknown door. When Castiel was at Dean’s place for the first time, he was given a brief tour which included the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the closed door that was Dean’s bedroom. But he didn’t remember seeing this door before. Sam opened it up, allowing Castiel to walk in first before following. 

Inside the room was dark and Castiel felt around the wall to find a light switch. When he did, he flicked it on and the room was illuminated in light. On one side was a row of video cameras, each showing a different location that was apparently important. The docks, the local government building, and a few alleyways made that list. Castiel could see the foyer of his own apartment where Dean had installed the camera. He was just glad the camera wasn’t  _ inside  _ his home. 

On the other side of the room was a large bulletin board, covered in photos, news clipping, and maps. Castiel didn’t study it for too long; there was too much information to process, but he did notice a few pictures of bodies retrieved from the skyscrapers. Now that he knew Sam and Dean were involved with these dead men, he looked at them with a new light, wondering what crimes they committed to grant them their fate. 

The other free side, directly across from the door, was bookcases and file cabinets. Castiel was willing to bet they were stuffed with information and files for everything Dean and Sam needed. The walls had weapons hanging from them and a table in the middle of the room was covered in scattered paper. This was a headquarters. This was where the important events happened. 

“Isn’t it incredible?” Sam said, his eyes wide with wonder. It was adorable; Castiel was willing to bet he had been inside this room billions of times yet he still reacted with the same amount of energy. “Everything that we know, everything that my father recorded, is in here.” 

“That’s amazing,” Castiel replied, still observing. 

“I think you’d like it in here,” Sam continued, leading Castiel to the table. He leaned over it, shuffling some papers. He was doing some organizing with a system that Castiel didn’t understand. He didn’t dare touch, lest he mess something up. “The Demons influence goes deeper than anyone can imagine. What we have barely scratched the surface. It’s insane how many people truly are under their command.” 

“Like the mayor?” Castiel asked without thinking. 

“Are you kidding?” Sam laughed. “Of course he’s with them, how do you think the Demons made it this far without getting caught? We don’t have enough evidence to convict him though. Besides, he’d just cover it up.” 

“Could he do that?” 

“Plenty of people could,” Sam replied, frowning. “That’s why I wanted to be a lawyer you know,” he said, sounding wistful. “So I could put people away in a legal way. So I could try to make a difference. But this is good enough. For now.” 

“You’ll get that,” Castiel said, looking Sam dead in the eyes. He walked closer, pressing his body against Sam’s, feeling the warmth beneath his skin. Sam was always so hot to the touch. Sometimes Castiel thought he had a fever. “I promise you Sam, you will get to have a regular life someday. And you’ll make an amazing lawyer.” 

“Thanks Cas,” Sam said, ducking his head. His cheeks were lined with red and Castiel softened at the sight. “How did I ever get so lucky?” Sam reached down and pulled Castiel’s hand up, manoeuvring it so he could bring it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Castiel’s wrist bone. Castiel’s wrist burned where Sam touched it and he could feel himself start to shake. “I’m serious. I’m so lucky to have someone like you,” Sam murmured. “I love you so much, Cas.” 

It was the first time the words were spoken out loud. Castiel spent weeks avoiding it, not wanting to move too fast. They slammed into Castiel, enveloping him in their meaning. Castiel could feel his heart start to pound faster. 

He couldn’t barely remember the last time someone told him that. The latest memory he could recall was when he turned eleven and came down with an awful cold that only affected him. Everyone else in his family seemed to be spared of the ailment and Castiel spent a few days holed up in his room while everyone else had other plans to attend to. One night, when the fever was at its highest and he thought for a brief second he was dying, his mother came in. She didn’t do much, just sat a glass of water and a few pills down on the counter, and left the room, whispering “I love you,” as she left. Castiel recovered within days. Those words were never spoken to him again. 

Sam was different- he was so sincere in his love. Castiel didn’t know why he waited so long to finally say it. Sam seemed like the type man who whispered it in every little way, the type of man to scream it from rooftops, and write it with ink on permanent places. 

“Of course Cas,” Sam breathed, pulling Castiel’s hand so it rested on his own cheek. He leaned into Castiel’s touch, his eyes closing for a few seconds. Castiel could feel Sam’s breath on his fingertips. They opened again when Sam resumed talking. “I’m not going to pretend this is easy on you, Cas. Anyone else would have run away by now. But you? You stayed. Do you know how incredible you are? How every night I thank the Lord he gave me you?” 

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He dropped his eyes, taking his hand away from Sam’s cheek so he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. He clutched Sam close, relishing in their contact. He spent most of his life alone, locked in the shadows, and suddenly he was surrounded by warmth. Sam had changed his life and Castiel didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want to give up on Sam just yet. 

“I love you too,” he said, his voice muffled in Sam’s shirt. Sam chuckled, bringing a hand up and smoothing Castiel’s hair down. “I’m the lucky one. You’ve changed me Sam. I couldn’t be more in debt to you.” 

Sam didn’t say anything back, just gently rocked back and forth. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Castiel finally pulled away, the moment passing. He wiped his eyes and turned back to the table, trying not to look at Sam. he didn’t think he could handle seeing Sam’s eyes so bright and full of love. 

“If you ever want to come in here,” Sam from behind him. “You just have to ask me or Dean. Come on, let's go make some lunch.” His eyes twinkled with laughter. “Dean would kill me if he ever found out I was using his kitchen.” 

Castiel nodded, knowing how dangerous Sam was when cooking. Together, they left the room, closing the door behind them. Castiel mentally went through his memories, trying to find a recipe to use for lunch. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful for the distraction. The air was soft and comfortable, and for a few seconds, Castiel pretended that nothing changed between them at all. 

Later, when Dean came back, a briefcase clutched tightly in one hand and dried blood beneath his fingernails, Castiel tried his best to ignore it. For Sam, after all. 

* * *

Castiel woke with a gasp, his heart hammering in his chest. His skin was covered in drying sweat, the blankets tangled around his legs. He didn’t recognize his surroundings and he had a moment of panic before he remembered- he was at Dean’s apartment, laying on the pull-out couch with Sam. They were covered with a thin, scratchy blanket that did nothing to keep them warm, resting their heads on flat, lumpy pillows. 

“The Demons already know where you live,” Dean explained when Castiel tried to leave that evening back to his own home. “It was safe the other night because they didn’t know what happened to their man. Now they do and they’ll be coming after you. It’s safer to just stay here for a few nights.” 

Castiel had protested but Sam backed Dean up and he eventually caved. He was powerless against Sam. Now he was here, laying on a shitty mattress, Sam sleeping heavily beside him, heart still pounding from a gruesome nightmare. He didn’t even have the comfort of his own home to sooth him. 

He frantically looked around until he located Sam’s sleeping face. He was pressed against the pillow, his dark hair spilling around him, delicately resting on his cheeks. He breathed in and out in a steady rhythm, looking at peace with the world. The sound soothed Castiel but he still couldn’t shake the nightmare. When he closed his eyes, he could see the images seared into his skull, and he tried desperately to forget it, to no avail. Sam’s face, covered in blood and pieces of rotting flesh, was still fresh in his mind. 

The blanket was suddenly too hot for him and he tugged it off roughly, sitting up on the bed. The movement didn’t wake up Sam. Castiel felt grateful for small mercies.

He sighed, standing up and stretching. His back popped when he did and he instantly felt more relief. He moved around the living room, trying to quiet so he wouldn't wake Sam or Dean. His breath was coming out in quick pants and he knew he had to get out of there. The nightmare had shaken him badly and he didn’t want to be near Sam. He knew Sam would never hurt him. He knew Sam was a good man. But his hands still shook as he recalled the way Sam laughed as Castiel screamed, as wet, warm blood slid down his arms onto the floor. 

He found his phone charging against the wall and he unplugged, turning it on. The light filled the room, casting long shadows across the walls. Now he could see Sam clearer. His eyes roamed up and down Sam’s sleeping body, trying to find any trace of crimson on his sleeping face. He knew he would find nothing but it didn’t hurt to make sure. 

With a sigh, he turned off his phone, plunging himself into darkness again, and tucked it into his pyjamas pocket. He felt sluggish and tired but he didn’t want to go back to bed, back where nightmares taunted him. The stench of decaying flesh still echoed around him. He had to get out of the room, find somewhere to recover. 

He only needed a few minutes of peace and solitude. Then he would be okay. Then he would be able to return to Sam and not think about drying clumps of blood in his hair. 

He tried to be quiet as he walked down the hallway past Dean’s room. He paused outside of Dean’s room until he could hear snoring before moving on. He made it to the end of the hallway where Sam had shown him the information room, where he confirmed that the mayor was a piece of shit, where he told Castiel he loved him. Castiel slowly opened the door and closed it behind him. It was only until the door was firmly shut did he turn on the light. 

The room was cold. It was oddly foreboding now that he was alone. Without Sam there, it seemed more empty than before. But it was quiet and seemed safe from the thoughts that threatened to completely overturn him, isolating him from the apartment outside. That made it good enough. 

After taking a few deep breaths, Castiel could feel himself start to settle down again. The nightmare still lingered but now it seemed far away from him, as if it happened years ago. He was starting to feel foolish for freaking out. 

His eyes wandered around the room, taking it in once more. He started to move around, heading back to the table where Sam finally confessed his love a few hours ago. His hands brushed against open files and photographs of men he didn’t recognize. In the corner was the briefcase Dean brought it in, still locked tight. Castiel watched it for a few seconds before moving on. 

He walked over to the file cabinets, opening one of the drawers. He didn’t know what else to do; he couldn’t go back to where Sam was sleeping, innocent to Castiel’s horrors, and there was no place else that made him feel quite as safe in the apartment. He needed something to do with his hands, and besides, Sam did say he could come in whenever he wanted. He wasn’t breaking any rules by being here. 

He absently opened a file up, reading the information on the man inside. He recognized the man inside, or at least his face- he was a famous actor located right in the city, the kind of actor they liked to boast they housed. Castiel didn’t care much about him but he knew the newspapers and gossip columns in the city did. But according to this file, he was in cahoots with the Demons. It included photographs, data-logs, stolen government letters, and more. It was enough evidence to put him away for years. 

Castiel frowned and closed it, putting it back and reaching for another one. This one was on a business owner, someone who Castiel worked with before. That thought shocked him, knowing he once shaken hands with someone involved with drug trafficking. It disgusted him, knowing he once touched someone so unclean. 

_ The Demons influence goes deeper than anyone can imagine. What we have barely scratched the surface. It’s insane how many people truly are under their command. _

That was what Sam said before. He barely sounded shocked at the evil located around Castiel’s home. The city harboured criminals for years, allowing their roots to sink deep into the underbelly until it was impossible to tear them out. Castiel didn’t want to believe his beloved city was so tainted but the evidence was right there, plain as day

It hit Castiel a few minutes later, halfway through reading up on a florist who’s shop hid the main drug centre of the Demons. Evidence. Organized evidence that was enough to put most of the major criminals behind bars. All hidden away in Dean’s apartment. All locked away in a metal file cabinet, neatly placed and marked by Sam’s hands. They would never be used, Castiel realized, except to feed Dean’s thirst for revenge. 

In Castiel’s hands was enough evidence to put hundreds of people away for years- from both the Demons and from Dean’s side. Everything was documented, everything was saved; justice could be served within hours if Castiel could find a way to release it. Major criminals could be taken off the streets if this information was ever shown to the public.

With a sinking heart, he realized- it wouldn’t. Dean wanted something more for revenge, something that was a little more bloodier than just a trail and years spent away locked in a prison cell. Dean wanted true revenge and he would do anything to get it. So all this information that could be used to actually  _ help _ people stayed locked away. Castiel could feel himself grow angry. Why should more people suffer under the hands of the Demons just for a bout of petty revenge? Wasn’t it enough to know that they would never hurt someone again? Wasn’t it enough to know they would never see the light of day again? 

Castiel looked down at the file in his hands and thought hard. He could bring hundreds of people to justice within hours, he could put away some of the most dangerous individuals to walk the streets, he could give Sam a chance at normalcy. If he released everything, the Demons would go to prison and so would Dean and everyone else under Dean’s command. But Sam wouldn't. Dean would make sure of that. Dean would fight tooth and nail to make sure all the blame rested on his shoulders. He wouldn’t allow Sam to take his portion of the fall. And Castiel? Castiel would be there for Sam. Castiel would be the one to give Sam the life he deserved, Castiel would be the one to offer comfort in the night, Castiel would be the one to save him. Eventually Sam would understand. Everything would be perfect. 

This file, these cabinets, he thought, held the chance at a happy life for both of them. 

He sighed. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to betray the man he loved in this way? Was it worth it? 

He didn’t know what to do. This lie he was leading could be done in an instant, but he also knew that if he just had a little patience, he could take Sam away naturally without arresting anyone- without arresting Dean. Justice wouldn’t be served for a long time but Castiel knew he had patience. It was a tough choice to make, and Castiel didn’t know if he would be able to reach a decision that night-

It was chosen for him. The sound of a gun cocking echoed through the silent room and Castiel stiffened. He set the file down on the metal cabinet and turned around slowly, feeling dread creep up his throat. The barrel of a gun was pointed between his eyes, steady and dangerous. Dean’s eyes flashed with barely restrained anger, his finger twitching slightly around the trigger. 

Castiel hadn’t even heard him come in. 

“Well, well, well,” he laughed bitterly. “This is a disappointment. I really liked you, Cas. I really thought you would have the stomach to handle this. It sucks being wrong.” 

“Dean, I wasn’t-” Castiel started. 

“Yeah sure,” he growled, rolling his eyes. “What were you doing, Cas? Tell me honestly. Tell me you weren’t just going through our files, just looking for something to put someone behind bars. Come on Cas, what’s your story?” 

Castiel stayed silent. There was nothing he could say that Dean would believe. He couldn’t tell him that he had a nightmare of Sam violently ripping into someone, his teeth tearing through flesh. He couldn’t tell him that he needed to be away from Sam for awhile so he came here, into the room filled with information that could lock them away for decades. Dean wouldn’t believe that. 

Dean sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Fuck,” he muttered. “What are you going to tell Sam? I told him this was a bad idea, damn it, but does he listen? No,” he spat, his anger growing. Castiel felt himself start to panic- he hadn’t even considered what would happen if he got caught. “I knew it was going to end badly but he seemed to be happy with you. And you seemed so fucking sincere.” 

“I didn’t-” 

“You didn’t what? Didn’t mean to get caught?” Dean spat. The gun was still pointed at Castiel, still steady between his eyes. Castiel shook, not used to staring down powerful weapons. He barely even saw guns as a kid; now he’d been threatened by one twice in one week. “I really liked you,” Dean repeated, sounding genuinely upset. 

“And I really like your brother,” Castiel whispered. He tried not to look at Dean, keeping his focus on the gun. “You’re killing him. He doesn’t want this.” 

“Don’t you dare try and say you were going to betray us so you could help my brother,” Dean spat. “If any of this gets out, we all go down.” 

“Not him,” Castiel replied. “You wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“No,” Dean agreed. “I wouldn’t.” 

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to explain. “Dean, all this information- it deserves to be shared. You can have your justice-” 

“The justice system fucking sucks,” Dean responded. “I’m surprised you don’t know this. They won’t do shit. Some of the guys out there wouldn’t even spend a single day behind bars. You ever stop and wonder why the mayor hasn’t been convicted yet?” 

They were silent for a few seconds. Then Dean sighed. 

“What are we going to do with you?” 

Castiel shrugged. He didn’t have anything else to say. 

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, footsteps Castiel recognized after a month, footsteps Dean recognized after a lifetime. They both looked slightly panicked for a second before Sam entered the room, yawning widely, still fighting the effects of sleep. His pyjamas were mussed and his hair was a mess.

“Dean? Cas?” he asked, stretching his arms high above his head. He seemed so oblivious to what was going on. “What is going on- oh.” He stopped in the doorway, finally noticing the gun held tightly in Dean’s hand and the file on the cabinet that shouldn’t be there. “Oh.” 

Castiel didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to see the betrayal that would be reflected in Sam’s hazel eyes, didn’t want to see his heartbreak as he finally connected the dots and realized what Castiel was about to do. 

“Oh no,” Sam murmured, sounding defeated, and Castiel’s heart broke in two. He sounded so resigned, as if he was just waiting for the moment when Castiel grew cold feet. 

“Sam, I-” 

“Just stop,” Sam sighed, looking down. He turned away, pausing right before he left, as if he was about to turn around. He looked like there was so much he wanted to say. But he didn’t move, just shook his head and left. Castiel was alone once more, his heart shattering around his bones, the pieces sinking into his stomach. He felt cold and clammy, still trying to process what just happened. 

“You really fucked up didn’t you,” Dean said, a bitter grin on his face. His eyes bore into Castiel’s own, cruel mocking shining behind them. 

“Just let me talk to him-” Castiel begged. He took a step forward to follow Sam, ignoring the gun trained on him. There were things more important. If he could just explain, if he could just try and get Sam to understand, then everything would be alright again.

The gun came down hard on his skull before he knew it was happening. White-hot pain exploded over Castiel’s head and he felt his vision start to blur. His body collapsed on the cold floor, his conscience slowly surrendering to the blackness. 

* * *

He gained conscience inside of a warehouse that he didn’t recognize, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair. Outside he could hear the sounds of the ocean and he knew he was at the docks near the edge of the city. 

The room was full of boxes and unopened crates, with a few small windows twenty feet up the walls that let in some natural light. It smelled like rotting fish and mold, which wasn't doing anything to improve his headache. 

Castiel could feel warm blood drip sluggish down his face where the gun hit him. Most of it was already scabbed over but a few areas were still leaking. He tried to bring his hand up to feel along the wound and he frowned when he couldn’t move them. Looking down, he realized with a sinking heart that his wrists were lashed to the handles with fraying rope. It was rough against his skin, making his wrists feel itchy. He tugged slightly, his wrists not moving an inch. 

He sighed, leaning back against the chair. The knots were too tight; trying to get out would result in bloody wrists that he couldn’t deal with. All he could do was sit and wait for his fate. 

After a while, his hands started to go numb, his legs tingling. His body felt fatigued, like giant weights pulling down on his limbs. The silence was so loud and it pressed down against his chest, suffocating him. 

Tiny dust particles floated down from the roof, reminding Castiel of snowflakes and ash, and it felt strangely peaceful. He didn’t know how long he was sitting there, or what was going to happen to him, but he felt oddly tranquil. 

Eventually, footsteps sounded throughout the warehouse, coming closer. Castiel didn’t look up, content to just continue looking down at his lap. He already knew it was. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Dean said, dropping something down on the floor. It was a bag and it clattered when it hit the ground, metal pieces shifting inside. Castiel didn’t know what was inside- he didn’t think he  _ wanted _ to know. “Got caught up with something more important. How’s that head wound doing?” 

Castiel couldn’t help himself; he laughed. It was a low, wheezing sound, making his shoulders shake with pain. There was nothing funny about his situation. He was tired, his head pounded behind his skull, and he was certain he was going to die. He blamed it on his blood loss. Logically, he should be terrified but all he felt was tranquillity. 

Dean laughed too, sounding oddly joyful. “You’re right, I don’t give a shit,” he said, walking towards the chair. Castiel still didn’t look up at him. “But it’s nice to see you haven’t died yet.” He reached out a hand and checked the knots that held Castiel’s hands tightly. “You haven’t tried to escape, huh? That’s strange, usually they put up a struggle.” He shrugged. “Not like I’m complaining, it’s hell getting blood out of rope.” 

“I’m glad I can make your life a little easier,” Castiel shot back dryly. 

“You owe us that much after last night,” Dean said. He tightened the ropes and Castiel winced, feeling the bonds dig uncomfortably deep into his skin. It was like Dean was purposely trying to get a reaction from him. 

He probably was. 

“Do you know what’s like?” Dean continued, finally stepping away from the chair. He raked his eyes up and down Castiel’s body, making sure the bonds wrapped around his legs were stable. “Have you ever had to comfort your kid brother after some douche bag breaks his heart? Do you know what it’s like?” 

Castiel and his brothers never had that kind of relationship. The closest he ever came to comforting one of them after a nasty break-up was when Gabriel drunk dialed him one night, blubbering about some girl who strung him along for weeks. She didn’t tell him she had a boyfriend until the very end, when the boyfriend caught them in bed together and went after Gabriel instead of his girlfriend. Castiel hadn’t said a word, just listened as his brother shot curses and insults towards both of them before falling asleep on the line. They never mentioned it again. 

It occurred to him that he might never see Gabriel again, that this rotting warehouse would be his resting place. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would; Castiel left nothing behind. No friends, no connections- just a broken family relationship and a job that would be easily replaceable. For all he knew, Gabriel might not even mourn him. 

Dean huffed. “Of course you haven’t.” 

He knelt down by the bag and unzipped it, rifling through. Castiel tried to appear uninterested but it was hard when he knew that it was most likely an instrument for his torture. Dean hummed while he looked through, too casual for Castiel’s liking. Dean’s nonchalance somehow made everything worse. 

The man without consequence indeed. 

Eventually, Dean stood up brushing off his hands. “Well, I’d say we’re ready to go!” His tone was cheerful but it still caused Castiel to shiver in fear. “Now, how would you like to-” 

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat a few feet away and Castiel shot his head up, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He knew who it was before he even looked- who else could it be? 

“Sam, what are you doing here?” Dean asked, his voice soft. He rushed over to where Sam was standing, watching the scene with a nervous energy about him. Dean started to fuss, searching Sam’s face for any sign of injury while Sam let him, standing still. His gaze was locked on Castiel’s and Castiel couldn’t turn his face away, even if he wanted to. 

Sam looked tired, black circles under his eyes, highlighted by pale skin. He was wearing a soft sweater and his usual jeans. His hair was a mess and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else than where he was. Castiel couldn’t blame him. He didn’t want to be here either. 

“I thought I told you to stay home and rest,” Dean said, still fussing. It was a little over-excessive in Castiel’s opinion. 

“I know,” Sam sighed. His voice was scratchy and raw, and Castiel grimaced, knowing it probably hurt to talk. “But I wanted to talk to him.” 

Castiel felt cold terror seize him. He could handle Dean just as long as he didn’t have to look into his eyes and see the darkness and desire to hurt within. But looking at Sam would be hell. Seeing the hurt and anger in Sam’s eyes would be worse torture than anything Dean could come up with. The worst part was that Sam wouldn’t believe he was doing it for them. All he would see is the betrayal, not the reasons why Castiel would turn them in, making it impossible for Castiel to justify himself. 

“Are you sure?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded hesitantly and Dean sighed. He turned and glared at Castiel. For the first time since he was brought to the warehouse, Castiel looked Dean dead in the eyes. The hatred in his green eyes shocked him. He knew that it shouldn’t. 

“Don’t you try anything,” Dean hissed. 

“He’s tied to a fucking chair,” Sam snapped, the first bits of anger finally surfacing on his face. “He’s not going to do anything.” 

With a groan, Dean walked away, his footsteps echoing through the building. Sam stayed silent until the slam of the heavy door was heard. Once he was sure Dean was gone, he walked towards Castiel, standing only a few feet away from the chair. If Castiel still had mobilization in his arms, he would be able to reach out and grip the ends of Sam’s sweater. 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said, smiling slightly. The expression was full of sorrow and Castiel wanted to berate himself for putting it on Sam’s face. He remembered how amazing it felt to know he was the source of Sam’s happiness- he now knew what it was like to be the source of Sam’s despair. 

“Hey Sam,” Castiel replied. 

Sam licked his lips. He clasped his hands together, not knowing what else to do with them and Castiel, for a moment, was grateful for the bonds that gave him something- or lack of something- to do with his hands. 

I thought you said you were okay with this,” Sam said, his voice choked. “I thought you said you didn’t care, that you just wanted to be with me-” 

“I do,” Castiel interjected. He couldn’t bear it if Sam thought he was lying. “Just not here. Just not doing this.” He tilted his head to look fully at Sam, feeling the muscles start to ache from the strain. He just needed Sam to understand. “I could have taken you far away from this life, I could have given you a house with a white-picket fence, I could have paid for you to finish school at Stanford-” 

“We can still have that,” Sam said, his voice frantic. “I can still go to Stanford.” 

Castiel almost laughed- they were both trying desperately for the other to see their side, both begging the other to stay and understand. Anyone else would have seen how much they meant to each other, anyone else could have been able to compromise and solve their problems in a healthy way. But Castiel refused to let go of his morals and Sam refused to leave Dean behind. That was why they could never work out; circumstances would be their downfall. 

“No, you can’t. Sam? You’re redeemable. You can still live a regular life, I could have given you that regular life, but if you stay, you can’t go back. Dean has already taken things too far. He can’t be saved-” 

“My brother is a good man,” Sam said, his voice tense. 

“Your brother has killed people in cold blood.” Castiel shook his head, feeling his thoughts grow fuzzy, the blood loss finally getting to him. He waited a few seconds to let the pain pass before continuing. “I don’t doubt that Dean is a good brother, I’ve seen how much he cares about you. I know that one day, in some other life, he would have made a great father. But I can’t do what you want me to.” 

“So that’s it then? You won’t even try.” 

“I tried just the other day, didn’t I?” 

“It was one day,” Sam said. He sounded like he was on the verge of screaming and was just barely managing to keep his anger in check. “You tried for one day.” 

“And I wanted to throw up the entire time,” Castiel replied. 

They grew silent as they both tried to think about what to do next. Castiel continued looking into Sam’s eyes, marvelling at their beauty. They seemed to change colour with a single shift of Sam’s leg- they were the kind of eyes that people romanticized in songs. He always loved that about Sam, how easy it was to romanticize him. 

“Please,” Sam whispered. They both knew what he was asking for. Sam wanted Castiel to try again, to give Sam permission to loosen his bonds and take him back to Dean’s place. He had no doubt that he wouldn’t be allowed back in the room that contained evidence to convict hundreds of criminals, nor would he be trusted with any sensitive information. But Sam would give him another shot, would give him another chance to prove himself capable of handling the life Sam lived ever since he was a child. But Castiel couldn't do it. 

Part of him despised Sam for his reluctance to leave his brother behind. Castiel had done it years ago- he knew what it was like to abandon the people who you shared a roof with for the first part of your life. But he also knew how freeing it was. He wanted that for Sam. He wanted to be the one to give it to and part of him was infuriated at how hard Sam fought to stay. He wanted to hate Sam for choosing Dean over him. 

But part of him was still desperately in love with Sam. He couldn’t bring himself to hate the man fully. It didn’t feel possible. 

He smiled gently up at Sam, trying to appear comforting and self-assured. “I’m sorry.” 

“Of course you are,” Sam said. His eyes looked wet but no tears fell, and for that, Castiel was grateful. He didn’t think he could bear it if Sam cried. 

“Oh come here,” Castiel murmured, raising his face as far as it could go. Sam cleared the distance left between them, placing his hands on Castiel’s cheeks. They were cold but dry, a welcome relief on Castiel’s burning face. Sam slowly lowered himself down until they were inches away and Castiel could feel his breath ghost over his nose. Castiel nodded slightly, giving permission. 

When their lips met, it was nothing like what Castiel imagined. It was chaste and cold, the faint taste of iron in his mouth. He knew he was covered in dirt and grime, and Sam’s lips still tasted like salty tears. It was full of regret and the broken promises of a dead man. Castiel knew he could never love someone as much as he loved Sam- he knew he would never get the chance to either. 

When Sam pulled away, he finally lowered his face. Sam’s hands dropped from his skin, back to his sides, hanging limply. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked. The thought didn’t scare him as much as it should. If he were to die in a warehouse by the ocean, better it be by Sam’s hands than anyone else's. 

“Oh no, Cas,” Sam murmured, sounding regretful. “I could never do that. Not if it’s you.” 

“Then you’re going to let me go?” 

Sam smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that.” 

The words and their meaning hit Castiel like a freight train. When they did, he felt like a fool for believing that he could get away for even a second. He almost laughed, both at himself and Sam’s cowardice. 

“That,” Dean drawled, leaning up against one of the unopened crates, “was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus Christ. I think I need brain bleach.” 

In his hands he twindled with a small knife that glinted in the light. It changed colours as the light hit it, looking like spilled gasoline. 

“I’ve seen much worse from you,” Sam argued back, finally tearing his gaze away from Castiel’s. Castiel sighed, slumping down, feeling himself relax. 

“Damn right you have, chicks love me,” Dean chuckled arrogantly, throwing the knife into the air and catching it with practised ease. He pushed away from the wall and walked towards them. “Are you two done here? Get all your feelings out?” 

Sam watched Castiel for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would say anything- waiting to see if he would change his mind at the last second. It was almost pathetic, how desperate he was for something that would never come. When Castiel didn’t respond, he sighed. “Yeah, we’re done here.” 

“Wonderful,” Dean clapped, the sound echoing around. “Sam, you head home. Bobby texted me while y’all were having your little heart-to-heart, he’s waiting back at the apartment.” 

Sam hesitantly nodded and Castiel watched with wide eyes as he made a move to leave- he wasn’t even going to watch. He felt disbelief start to fill him but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. That was what Sam did, wasn’t it? He left the dirty work to big brother and pretended that he had a shot of making it out. Castiel could feel himself start to laugh bitterly. 

“You’re a coward,” he said, his tone full of fond hatred. “Damn you.” 

All Sam could do was shrug and walk away, trying to ignore the parting words. Castiel watched him leave, bright blue eyes tracing his movements until he could no longer see Sam at all. He wished he could have stuck around long enough to watch when Sam finally stopped deluding himself, when he finally realized there was no possible way for him to leave. 

He wanted to see the moment he realized that Castiel was his only way out. 

“Again,” Dean said, heading back to the bag on the floor, continuing what he was doing before Sam interrupted. He rummaged around for a few seconds and pulled out a long baseball bat. It was made of shiny metal, colourful logos printed around it. “I really am disappointed. You would have been an awesome brother-in-law.” 

Castiel watched him carefully. Dean did some fancy hand gestures with the bat and Castiel found himself wondering if Dean ever played any sports when he was young. He finally stopped flipping the bat, holding it still. He walked towards Castiel, stopping a few inches away from him, swinging the bat up so it rested on his shoulders. He cut an imposing figure, all sharp angles and dark shadows. 

Castiel wondered if anyone else had this level of calmness when faced with their deaths. All he felt was peace and muted panic- the head wound probably had something to do with it. He felt grateful towards it for making his last moments slightly more bearable. 

“You know, I always had a rule, ever since Sam was young. Anyone who hurts him gets it back twice as hard,” he said mildly, like they were discussing something mundane. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to break your heart. Well, at least not figuratively. But physically?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I think we can find a way.” 

There was a part of Castiel that wondered how things could have gone if he didn’t let Sam ask him out that day in the park. Where would he be at this exact second? What would he be doing? He’d probably be at home, eating cold take-out, going through some business proposals that he didn’t care about, living the same moment every single day. 

At least his death would be exciting. 

“Well, are you ready?” Dean asked. Castiel knew he wasn’t looking for an answer. He stayed silent, feeling his heart start to pound, both in fear and anticipation. Dean smiled, his canines glinting in the light. “Let’s bust some kneecaps.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))
> 
> can't believe Castiel is fuckn dead, rip

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, comments and kudos appreciated


End file.
